


Torch

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [54]
Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:38:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Observations and pride; Hormones and pregnant women; A final school board meeting; No other alternative to a big lie; Senior Showcase; Graduation songs; PFLAG, glee club, and all the other torches being passed; Tenuous living situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

Usually Will gets his coffee in the breakroom, and stays there until the first bell has rung, taking the shortest route to his classroom. This day, though, he grabs breakfast at McDonald’s, including some coffee, and instead of walking to his classroom or the breakroom, he stops inside the main entrance and finds an unobtrusive place to watch. He’s curious about the fallout from the outcome the evening before, and it seems like a good plan to keep an eye out. 

He’s already forgotten what Tina said the night before, about the glee club meeting at Starbucks before school, or he had, until he sees the twelve of them walking towards the school. They’re all wearing their T-shirts from Nationals, though even Will can recognize that Kurt’s obviously already altered a few of them. They’re clustered together in twos and threes, but still all one big group, and it occurs to Will that whether or not the twelve of them realize it, they do sort of own the school at the moment. 

All of them are seniors. All of them are national champions. Three of them are also state champions; another three are national champions twice. All twelve of them are going to college, and all of them out of state. There are fine universities in Ohio, yes, but the fact is that they have beaten the statistics. Half of each class goes to college; instead of fifty percent, it’s one hundred percent of them. Only one or two kids in each class typically head out of state; there are three _others_ that are going out of state, and if pressed, Will would still count Lauren as one of theirs. 

They’re winners, and they walk past him, laughing, without even noticing him, and Will feels a little pang. He can’t remember a time in his life when he’s been more proud. 

 

Something weird’s been going on and Burt can’t quite put his finger on it. Carole’s been acting off ever since Finn’s suspension, and Burt can’t figure out what the problem is, exactly. He wasn’t thrilled to hear Finn had been in a fight, but from what he can gather, Finn’s heart was in the right place, even if his brain wasn’t. The suspension shouldn’t have any effect on Finn’s grades and definitely won’t hurt his scholarship, so Burt can’t understand why Carole’s so angry at the kid.

He tried to bring it up with her a few times during the week, but she snapped at him every time. It’s been “Everything’s fine, Burt!” or “I’m not angry, please just drop it,” and Burt’s not stupid enough to keep pushing the issue. Maybe it’s just the baby. Hormones can make pregnant women do weird stuff. It might also be the boys leaving for school soon. 

Whatever had her so pissed seems to have disappeared just as suddenly as it appeared, though. She’s gone from glaring and smiling that fake smile on Friday night to being bright as sunshine by Saturday afternoon, and while Burt’s not going to question _that_ either, the whole thing just leaves a weird taste in his mouth.


	2. Brown Throwdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brown vs. Brown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “So it’ll just be an hour or so, Daniel, and then you’ll have an idea what I’m doing after-school next year. You already come and watch Cheerios practice sometimes,” Alicia finishes. 

“You figure they’ll let me sit in and watch you practicing your singing some time?” Rick asks, trying to put all the stuff back into his taco from where it fell out when he picked it up. “I thought that the glee stuff was all secret.”

“No, that’s just the rehearsals they didn’t want Mr. Schuester to know about, I think,” Alicia replies, frowning. “Santana said they were meeting on Sunday nights and mornings sometimes.” She shrugs. “Anyway, the school rehearsals aren’t secret. Especially when it’s not a rehearsal for—”

“Alicia H. Brown!” Brown shouts, as he comes stomping up to the table waving around a little red card. He turns towards the rest of them and says, “Hey Cherry, Foots, Shep. But, Alicia H. Brown!”

“That’s not my middle initial!” Alicia says with an even bigger frown. 

“Well, it is today. You and Jesus must have the same middle name, and the both of you make good swear words,” Brown says, throwing himself down into a chair and shoving that card into Alicia’s face. “You wanna tell me what this is about?”

“It’s a business card issued by Coach Sylvester to all Cheerios,” Alicia says, like it ought to be obvious. “Surely you know what a business card is, Miles. And Cheerios, too.”

“Oh, I know what Cheerios are, Alicia,” Brown says, slamming the card down onto the table. “I’ve known what Cheerios are for years before you got here. I wanna know why Coach Sylvester’s suddenly handing out cards about me, when I ain’t ever been on her radar before.”

“Supposedly she used to hand out cards about Noah Puckerman,” Alicia says, “but she hasn’t had to worry about him since sometime last year, for whatever reason. And those have been printed up since September, so why are you accusing _me_?”

“These cards weren’t printed in no September, Alicia! I was still fu—I mean, they were still talking to me back in September. And October and November, and all the way up until, oh, about _March_!” Brown seems real pissed off about the cards. He hasn’t put the one he’s holding down yet and keeps banging it on the table when he talks. “Can you think of something that happened in March that might’ve changed that?”

“Casey turned sixteen?” Alicia says, smiling real wide. “Oh, and that’s when you started disappearing on the weekend sometimes, too.”

That sets Casey to giggling and even Karofsky looks like he thinks it’s sort of funny. Brown gets all puffed-up and insulted-looking, and says, “Don’t talk about things you don’t know about, Alicia.”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to thank you,” Alicia says. “Knowing she didn’t have worry about me sleeping with you was a big point in my favor with Coach Sylvester.”

Brown makes a sort of gagging noise and Casey giggles harder and Karofsky snorts. “Alicia, what is _wrong_ with you?” Brown finally says. “You are seriously one demented child.”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “Anyway, if you’re so mad about those cards, why don’t you go talk to Coach about them? She’s the one that signed them. See? Right there.” Alicia points to the card, running her finger across one line. “‘Coach Sue Sylvester’, Miles. Not ‘Alicia Brown’.”

“Yeah, and I just bet you had nothing to do with it, nothing at all,” Brown says. 

“Do you think anybody tells Coach what to do?” Alicia says, looking at Brown like he’s a complete dumbass. 

“I think her Cheerios can put a bug in her ear,” Brown says, pointing at Alicia. “And I think the bug here is _you_.”

“I really don’t care who you sleep with, Miles Brown, as long as it’s not Daniel. If you try that, you’ll both be on my list.”

Rick raises his hand. “I can promise that won’t happen, Alicia. Don’t worry!”

Brown looks disgusted. “Alicia, sometimes I just don’t even know where you came from. Ma would be shocked by the way you talk, I swear.”

Alicia laughs. “Ma taught me to talk this way, you moron.”

“Well, shit,” Brown says. “You’re right. Something wrong with the both of you. Foots, just in case you need to know what your future looks like, you come on over to my house and just observe my Ma for a while.”

“Aw, Brown, your Ma’s real nice!” Rick says. “That’s terrible, saying stuff like that about your mama.”


	3. 3x34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final school board meeting; No other alternative to a big lie; Senior Showcase; Graduation songs; PFLAG, glee club, and all the other torches being passed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist for 3x34 "Torch"](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5A1A76BB84)
> 
> This is our second to last episode of our "season 3". Next week's, 3x35, will be the last episode. After that, we'll take a short break before we start posting the summertime and future fic in the new format.

Columbus is right where they left it, and the plane lands right on time, which means they have two hours and fifty minutes to collect the baggage, get on a bus, and get back to Lima for the school board meeting. Rachel’s excess of pink luggage was annoying on Monday; on Thursday, it’s blatantly a hindrance, and even the rest of the girls look a little annoyed with Rachel and Mercedes as the thirteen of them struggle out to the bus with luggage, carry-ons, and the very large trophy. They also still all match, which means they get a lot of interesting looks. 

Puck decides though, that he’s going to procure coffee at least for his people, because Starbucks isn’t going to make or break their arrival time. Three drinks later, he’s still settled in his seat on the bus beside Kurt and behind Finn before everyone is ready to get going. 

“Now, I haven’t told anyone yet!” Schue calls out as the bus finally takes to the highway to get them back towards Lima. “It’ll be a surprise when we pull up!” 

“Seems like winning should earn us a vote or something,” Puck mutters quietly, and Kurt lets out a little huff of laughter. 

“You’d think,” he agrees. 

Everyone is in a good mood on the bus; a few people fell asleep on the plane, but they’re all wide awake now, high off performing, the competition, and then winning, which Puck would probably start to doubt if there wasn’t a trophy taking up the seat next to Schue. 

“You sure we’re gonna look ok, showing up in our matching outfits?” Finn asks. 

Puck shrugs. “We’re in ties, the girls are in dresses, we look okay. Reminds them we’re students representing McKinley and all of that, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Finn says. “How much longer? Are we really going to make it on time?”

“We have an entire two hours and thirty minutes to make a two hour drive. Who knows?”

“Is it obsessive if I make the iPad update our estimated travel time every five or ten minutes?” Kurt asks. 

“You can make it do that? Are you already making it do that? Make it do that!” Finn looks over the seat, possibly to see if Kurt has his iPad out. 

“I might be,” Kurt concedes, angling the iPad so that they can all see it. “Currently, we’re doing fine and should arrive at approximately 6 pm.”

“Meeting’s at 6:30, so we’re fine,” Puck concludes. 

“I can’t believe I have to wear this tie for two and a half more hours,” Finn says. “It smells like airport.”

“Which one?” Kurt asks. 

“Both. Any. All.” Finn sniffs his tie. “It just smell… airporty.”

“And here I wanted to smell like victory,” Puck sighs. “You’re telling me I smell airporty instead. This is an extreme disappointment, Finn.”

“Maybe yours smells fine,” Finn offers. “Need me to smell it?”

“Lie to me,” Puck suggests. “Tell me I don’t smell like an airport. Especially if I smell like Port Columbus International.”

“Lean up,” Finn says, and Puck leans forward. Finn catches him by the tie and sniffs it. “Hmm. Smells…” He grins at Puck.

“Like what?” Puck asks suspiciously. “And don’t tell me the Circle Line, either, because I didn’t do that this time.”

“Neither did I,” Finn says. “Anyway, it mostly smells like fucking.”

Puck starts laughing and Kurt presses his hand over his mouth to keep his own laughter a little quieter. “Dude.” Puck shakes his head. “Seriously?”

“Kurt, smell his tie,” Finn says. “He’ll tell you. You know Kurt wouldn’t lie.”

“Of course I’d lie. Just not about that,” Kurt says, and he sniffs at Puck’s tie briefly. “Okay, that’s… odd. It really does, baby.”

Puck laughs again. “That’s… how’d that happen?”

“Did the tie get, uh…” Finn looks around and lowers his voice. “ _Under_ us at some point?”

“It was in the suitcase.” Puck shrugs. “Shouldn’t’ve.”

“Did you guys fuck in the suitcase or something?” Finn asks. 

“Travel–size jokes not appreciated,” Kurt sniffs. 

“Maybe it’s not the tie, then,” Finn suggests. “Maybe it’s just Puck. Smell the rest of him and see.”

Kurt rolls his eyes a little but does lean towards Puck briefly, then shakes his head. “No, I think it really is just the tie.” He giggles. “That’s so strange.”

“How did _my_ tie end up being the one that smells that way?” Puck wonders. 

“Maybe your tie snuck out for a hookup with another tie?” Finn says. 

“Anthropomorphic neckwear,” Kurt muses. “Interesting theory.”

“You got a better one?”

“The room just smelled like it, and the tie happened to capture the scent?” Kurt shrugs. 

Puck grins. “The room did.”

“It was nice,” Finn says. 

“It was,” Kurt agrees as Puck nods, and then Kurt very briefly reaches up to run his fingers down Finn’s cheek. Finn smiles and leans his head into the touch. 

“Good thing we got in the back again,” Puck says wryly. 

“We’re behaving!” Finn protests. 

“We are _now_.” Puck laughs. “And we behaved on the plane, more or less. We’re bound to slip up before six o’clock.”

“Probably,” Finn agrees. 

“Most of the time, that is more enjoyable,” Kurt smirks. 

“We need a curtain or something,” Puck says, grinning. 

“I’ll be your curtain,” Finn says, standing up and coming around to squeeze himself into the seat next to Kurt. 

“Ouch,” Puck mock–complains as they all squeeze. 

“Are you crushed _now_?” Finn asks.

“I am.” Puck looks around Kurt to stick his tongue out at Finn. 

“Poooor Puck,” Finn says. “Hey, you could ride in my lap like on that field trip! What was that, like seventh grade or something?”

Puck laughs. “I totally could.”

“You’re a lot bigger than you were then,” Finn says, “but so am I, so. Climb on over if you want to.”

Kurt looks between the two of them, shaking his head and grinning. Puck laughs again and half–stands, then slides over enough to plop on top of Finn’s lap. “Like this?”

“Oof!” Finn exhales. “Gentler!”

“You can sit gently?” Puck asks. “Pretty sure once I’m sitting, there’s no gentler.”

“Well, don’t bounce too much,” Finn says. “Or we’re going to end up not behaving and Kurt’ll be mad at us.”

“I didn’t say anything about behaving, actually,” Kurt points out. 

Finn puts his arms around Puck’s middle and pulls him closer. “Kurt says we don’t have to behave.”

“But we do all have to still look presentable when we arrive. In approximately eighty-five minutes.” Kurt shrugs, leaning his head against Finn’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, but ‘presentable’ is one of those, uh. Things that’s, like, opinion. What’s that word?”

“Subjective, darling. And presentable in my opinion.”

“Can you give me a detailed description of what’s presentable?” Finn asks. “You know, just so I know.”

“No stains.” Kurt smirks a little. “No wet spots. Hair not too mussed.” He purses his lips. “Maybe we should just set an alarm on the phone to give us enough time to get presentable.”

Finn kisses Puck softly on the back of the neck and slides his hands down Puck’s stomach. “No wet spots, huh?”

Puck lets out a low, quiet whine, and nods. “You heard the man.”

“Guess I’ve gotta stop before there’s a mess then, huh?” Finn asks, moving his hands further down until he’s cupping Puck’s cock through his pants. “You make sure to tell me when to stop.”

“Fucking tease,” Puck hisses. “I swear, both of you.”

Kurt giggles. “He’s a quick study.”

“Kurt told me I could,” Finn says.

“Uh-huh,” Puck says dubiously. “I’ll just call it how I see it.”

Kurt’s hand slides along the outside of Puck’s thigh slowly. “Too bad we have to be presentable, isn’t it, baby?”

“Yes,” Puck manages to say through his clenched teeth. “It is.”

Finn rubs his hand in slow, circular movements against Puck’s cock. “There’s rules. Rules of being presentable,” he says into Puck’s ear. “Very important rules.”

“Yeah?” Puck responds, making an effort not to angle his hips or push against Finn’s hand. Kurt’s fingers trail up his side now, and Puck really wishes they weren’t on a bus at that moment. 

“Yes. Kurt makes the rules, right?” Finn’s other hand creeps back up Puck’s chest. 

Puck chuckles for a moment. “Yeah.”

“And Kurt says no mess, right?” Finn’s fingertips graze across one of Puck’s nipples. 

“He did,” Puck admits, squirming a little, and if it makes Finn a little uncomfortable, so much the better. Finn raises his hips, pressing against Puck.

“You’re gonna make me break Kurt’s rules,” Finn warns. 

“And you’re not trying to have _me_ break them?” Puck retorts.

“Nope. I’m just being sweet to you.” To emphasize his point, Finn gently squeezes Puck’s cock through his jeans at the same time he brushes his fingertips across Puck’s nipple again. “Aren’t I the sweetest?”

“ _No_ ,” Puck says. “Sweet would be if we were all _naked_.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to get you naked on the bus,” Finn says. “Sorry. I think that would, uh. Probably upset Mr. Schue.”

Puck has to laugh at that, and Kurt laughs, too. “Can you imagine?” Kurt says. “I don’t think he’d manage to say anything.”

“His eyes’d bug out,” Puck agrees. 

“His head might actually explode,” Finn says. “I mean, really actually explode.”

“So this is a bad plan why, again?” Puck smirks. 

“We could just ask to be dropped off at a hotel and stay there,” Kurt says almost absently, his hand moving from Puck’s side to drop down beside Finn’s. “For a few days or weeks or something.”

“Blue eyes,” Puck says quietly. “I thought you wanted us all presentable. So maybe you should stop saying things like that.”

“I don’t care if I’m presentable if Kurt doesn’t,” Finn says. “So I think he should keep on saying stuff like that.”

“Fuck it,” Puck mutters, and he’s about to turn around and just hope no one near the front notices them. 

“Hey, guys!” Mike’s voice interrupts him, mid-turn. “How are…” His voice gets closer and then stops. “Uh. Anyway. Who’s getting the trophy off of here?”

Puck sighs and straightens a little, stopping his attempt to turn. He should probably just go back to being crushed against the window or whatever, but not yet. “You and Finn should carry it off. After the rest of us get off. The bus.”

“I agree,” Kurt nods. 

“I get to carry the trophy? Awesome!” Finn says, with a victory fist. 

“Who else would?” Kurt points out. 

“Plus there’s an added bonus if it’s you and Mike,” Puck laughs. 

“Because we’re the bossofthem,” Finn says. “Just them, though. Not you guys.”

“That wasn’t the bonus, though.”

“What’s the bonus? We can hold it up higher?”

“If you two are carrying it, _Rachel_ isn’t,” Puck says quietly, smirking. Mike laughs, glancing over his shoulder towards where Rachel is sitting, and then laughs harder. Finn starts snickering, but covers his mouth, then tries to look like he feels guilty.

“You don’t actually look guilty,” Kurt says to Finn with a giggle of his own. 

“No, I totally feel guilty! For real!” Finn insists, trying even harder to look it.

“Why?” Puck snorts. 

“Uh. That’s the polite way to feel when you’re about to totally ruin somebody’s fun, right?” Finn says. “Because that is definitely gonna ruin her fun. Pooooor Rach.”

“You might want to practice sounding more sympathetic before we get there,” Puck laughs. 

“Yeah, Puck’s right, dude,” Mike nods. “Okay. And um.” He looks pointedly at how they’re sitting and raises his eyebrow. “Remember there’s ten other people on the bus, yeah?” With that, he laughs again and heads back up the aisle. 

“Hey guys?” Finn says.

“Yes, darling?” Puck replies. 

“I think Mike knows.”

“I think Mike doesn’t care,” Kurt says. “And well, there was that conversation we had with him a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, the one about the threesomes? Yeah, I guess that could’ve been a clue or whatever.”

“Just a bit.” Kurt shrugs. “But,” he continues, voice regretful, “Mike’s probably right.”

“Should I go back to my seat now?” Finn asks, looking sad.

“No, but you should probably move your hand,” Puck sighs. 

“But I don’t wanna,” Finn whines, though he does move his hands and rest them both on Puck’s knees instead. 

“Didn’t say that was what any of us _wanted_ ,” Puck points out. 

“Sixty-five minutes.”

“Maybe we’ll have enough time to stop for coffee!” Finn suggests. 

“I’m not paying for all of them,” Puck says, gesturing towards the front of the bus. “But we could probably call ahead. I think it’s Casey and John.”

“Thirteen coffees to go, please,” Kurt suggests. “Think we could get curbside service?”

“Me? Nah. But if _you_ call and talk to John.” Puck laughs. 

“I should. And Finn can convince Schue to make the detour.”

“I can convince anybody of anything,” Finn says. “I have that power.”

“I don’t know about that, but you’re like the Schue–whisperer,” Puck says. 

“Except that time he decided he hated me and I was stealing his glee club,” Finn points out. “Because I was a pretend leader.”

“Glee club thief,” Puck laughs as Kurt pulls out his phone and finds the number at Starbucks. 

“Shh,” Kurt says briefly. “Oh, hi, Casey, it’s Kurt.” He pauses. “That’d be telling. We just all need caffeine before the meeting, so—” He pauses again, clearly listening to whatever Casey’s saying. “Well, no, but we did meet the White Ranger.”

“And it was _awesome_ ,” Finn breathes.

“A _lot_ of it,” Kurt finally says. “I suppose thirteen would be nice of us. One for Mr. Schue.” There’s another pause, and Kurt nods. “Right. We’re…” He looks down at the iPad. “We’re an hour out, hopefully, so we should be there right at six. Thanks, Casey. Bye.”

“So, coffee?” Finn asks. 

“He’s bringing cups and a box or whatever of it,” Kurt answers. “So we don’t have to detour.”

“Excellent,” Puck decides. “And really? Still an hour left in this thing?”

“It’s not such a bad bus,” Finn says. “Company’s nice.”

“Some of the company,” Kurt corrects. “This company. Not so much some of the company up there.” He gestures vaguely towards the front of the bus. 

“K’s got a point.”

“Next time, we should take a really small bus. A car. We should drive ourselves,” Finn says.

“Like when we go to the beach this summer?” Kurt says lightly. 

“Hey, I looked up beaches! Googled ’em, anyway. _Not_ the nude ones, though.”

“There is an app for that, by the way,” Finn says. “I looked it up.”

Puck laughs. “Anyway. Florida sound good?”

“White sand?”

“Very white. Pensacola?”

“Then yes, I think that sounds good,” Finn says. 

“It’s about fourteen hours, so we’ll definitely need to swap out driving,” Puck adds. 

“We should take my truck, then,” Finn says. “Save the mileage on the Nav, since you’re gonna sell it. Who cares about the mileage on the truck? That thing’s like, I dunno, a million years old.”

Kurt shrugs. “Okay. The luggage’ll all fit in the box–thing?”

“It’s a big box,” Finn says. “If it won’t all fit, I’ll just throw my shit in the bed and put a tarp over it. That’s what I’m probably doing when—” He cuts himself off abruptly and doesn’t continue. 

“How much do we really need for the beach?” Puck asks. “Swim trunks, a few T-shirts, something to keep our feet from frying.”

“Sunscreen, aloe vera, snacks,” Kurt lists off. “And we might want to eat in an actual restaurant at some point.”

“So, one pair of shorts, pair of underwear, sunglasses, and, uh.” Finn grins. “Supplies.”

“Oh, _that_ goes without saying,” Puck laughs. 

 

The overall volume of the bus drops considerably as they start to roll past familiar places, and by the time they approach the parking lot of the school board meeting building, the bus is nearly silent and Finn’s climbed back into his own seat. Schue turns around in his seat as the bus turns the corner. 

“This is going to be fun, guys!” he says with a grin. 

“And we have people saving us spots in the main room!” Tina adds. 

“Did they save a spot for our trophy?” Brittany asks. “I want to sit next to it.”

Schue grins. “Luckily the trophy doesn’t have to have its own chair!” 

The bus rumbles to a stop and they all stand up, jostling around in the aisle so that Finn and Mike are at the back. The parking lot’s full of cars and the line to get in looks just as long as the time before. Puck purses his lips and nudges Kurt’s shoulder. 

“How are we all leaving here? We don’t have cars here?”

Kurt giggles after a second. “ _We_ have the Nav, because Dad was driving it over separately from Carole. I have no idea about the rest of them, though.”

They’re all off the bus, except for Mike and Finn, standing in a group, when a seemingly well–caffeinated Casey calls out, “Will you tell me _now_ if you won?”

The ten of them exchange a few glances, and then they all shake their heads and turn to look back at the bus, where Mike and Finn are starting to emerge. They hoist the trophy onto their shoulders, huge smiles on their faces. 

“It followed us home! You think we can keep it?” Finn asks. 

Casey makes an excited, high-pitched noise that breaks the sound barrier or possibly rips a hole in the space-time continuum. “You won!”

“It was the biggest trophy there!” Mike agrees. 

Mike shifts the trophy over to Finn, who balances it on his hip like a giant golden baby. “It is a pretty big trophy,” Finn says. “Almost as big as the number of asses we kicked in New York.”

There’s some scattered laughter and the twelve of them start to filter towards the front of the line where various teachers and adults have obviously been holding spaces for them. Tina beams at most of them. “Thank you _so_ much! Guys, we have spaces at the front of the line!”

Everyone shifts around until they’re all settled on a number for each of them; Puck ends up on #4, but there’s no slogans on the squares this time around. Kurt’s on #3 and Finn’s on #2, and Puck has to laugh because the effect of their costumes makes it look like a rainbow waiting to go in. 

Burt and Carole approach, Burt’s arm around Carole’s waist. Carole looks a little irritated, but like she’s making an effort to hide it. 

“Looks like you boys did it!” Burt says, admiring the trophy Finn is still clutching. 

“We did,” Kurt says with a grin. “First out of fifty.”

“Congratulations, kid,” Burt says, letting go of Carole to grab Kurt in a big hug. “Knew you’d do it!”

“And we didn’t have to write any songs at the last minute, either,” Kurt says wryly, returning the hug. 

“Probably helped,” Burt agrees, nodding. “Finn, Puck. You boys have a nice trip?”

Puck just nods affirmatively, and Finn says, “Yeah, it was good,” sounding strangely non-committal. 

Carole smiles at him, but it’s a little weird, and no, they’re definitely not past the fallout from the week before, apparently. “Congratulations, of course!” She looks briefly at Kurt and Puck both, then directs her gaze back at Finn. “I saw all of your pictures with you and that pretty girl, Finn. Who was that?”

“Allison. She’s going to school with Puck in the fall,” Finn says. He doesn’t quite make eye contact with Carole, more looks past her head. 

“Oh. Was she in town for the competition, too?” Carole’s smile gets a little bigger, but it still seems weird in Puck’s opinion. 

“No, I think she lives in the city, or close to it or something?” Finn looks over at Puck for confirmation. Puck nods. 

“Yeah, about an hour. Someplace that I keep thinking should be ‘Crouton,’ but it’s not.”

“Yeah, she lives there,” Finn says. “She showed me around the city.”

“Well, that was so nice of her,” Carole says. “And so nice of you to let us know exactly where you were. At all times.”

Finn makes his strangled coughing noise, disguising it with a louder, dramatic cough. 

“Yeah, he spent most of the day with Allison,” Puck supplies quickly. “Until he had to meet up with all the rest of us and Schue for dinner. That’s what ‘Benoit’ was, dinner.”

“Puck ate snails,” Finn says, recovering from his coughing. “She couldn’t handle it.”

“So,” Burt says, ignoring Finn’s comment about the snails. “Nice little prank with the foursquare, guys.”

“You’re always concerned about where we are, Dad. I would have thought you’d’ve appreciated the notifications.” Kurt smiles, looking almost innocent. 

“Mmhmm.” Burt looks unimpressed by Kurt’s innocent act. “And you set it up on both phones because?”

“Now, you wouldn’t want Carole to worry, would you, Dad?”

“And the alarm?”

“You’d hate to miss a notification. Finn told me about that, when we were in New York before.” Kurt beams at his dad, and Puck’s having to work hard not to laugh.

“It’s true, Burt,” Finn says. “You wouldn’t let me turn the notifications off last time, remember?”

Burt narrows his eyes at Finn. “And can you explain why I couldn’t get into foursquare to change the settings. I tried, you know. And your mother didn’t even have it on her phone before you left.”

Finn shrugs. “She must have, or it wouldn’t have notified her.”

“It was newly installed,” Carole says. “I didn’t install it, though.” She frowns a little and shakes her head. “I didn’t even have a foursquare account. Now it keeps asking me if I want to check in at the hospital every morning.”

“Hey, you should!” Puck grins at her. “You could be the mayor of St. Rita’s!”

Carole looks really confused, and then frowns at Puck for just long enough for him to start feeling uncomfortable. Then she focuses back on Finn, though, still frowning. “I don’t even know what that means,” she admits. 

“Nobody knows what that means, honey,” Burt says. “It doesn’t really mean anything.”

“Finn was the mayor of the continental breakfast room at the hotel,” Kurt points out brightly. “But that’s only because Puck and I forgot to check in there one morning.”

“Yeah, we were trying to get coffee, I think,” Puck nods. 

“But don’t worry, there’s not really anywhere exciting to check in at, back here. Most places aren’t set up as places to check in.” Kurt beams at Burt innocently again. 

“Hopefully it’ll stay that way,” Burt grumbles. 

Before any of them can reply, one of the school board people comes out and motions them into the building and down the hall, and they all settle into seats. The trophy does end up on the ground next to Brittany at the end of a row, and a few seats over, Rachel eyes it longingly. There’s only about ten minutes before the meeting’s supposed to start, and after about five, Tina walks over to talk to Connie Dean, then returns to their section. 

“Connie Dean thinks there’s even more people here this time, even though there’s no announced speakers! Some people think that they’re going to have two or three speakers, and other people think they might call back some of the previous speakers.”

Puck takes a look around the room. Tina obviously managed to ensure that the main room was _just_ their side; there’s a lot of PFLAG people, some parents, and a sprinkling of teachers, though that includes Coach Sylvester, who’s got a couple of notecards in her hand. Coach Beiste is there, too, though she’s got a congratulatory cake with her, beaming at the twelve of them, which makes Puck wonder how she knew. 

The officious guy taps on his table, the school board files in, and the room gets quiet as the president of the school board calls the meeting to order. “Our main point of business this evening is, of course, the addition of protective language to the existing anti-bullying policy. We will take up this issue last, after voting on three other motions and issuing typical commendations for the end of the year.”

One of the votes is about the school calendar or something, and Puck tunes out the next two, plus most of the commendations, before Kurt’s knee nudges his, and Kurt nods slightly towards the school board. 

“A final commendation this evening,” the president says. “And the group in question is even present. Our sincere congratulations to McKinley High School’s glee club, New Directions, for their successful trip to New York City and for placing first in the national show choir competition.” There’s a motion to second and it passes unanimously, even though Puck’s not sure what that all means. Maybe they get a plaque in the school trophy case or something. 

At the end of the row of seats, Brittany pats the trophy affectionately and leans over to whisper something to it. Whatever she says, it makes Santana have to stifle a laugh, and she takes Brittany’s hand and visibly squeezes it, then keeps on holding it as the school board guy keeps talking. 

“We made the decision to allow one new speaker this evening. We also have a few questions for three of the former speakers, whom we will call forward momentarily. Before we begin that portion of the meeting, we have unanimously agreed to invite Coach Sue Sylvester to speak to us briefly.”

Coach Sylvester approaches the front of the room, but instead of standing at the podium and facing the school board, she stands beside it, facing the other attendees. She speaks in a loud voice that probably carries to the back of the room. “First, thank you to the school board for being kind enough to invite me here today,” she says, and the smirk on her face makes it clear how she got that invitation. “Next, I wanted to address this issue of special rights and special kids versus equal rights nonsense. Let me make this clear: some kids really _are_ more special than others. That’s just the way it is. Some kids are superior athletes or have skills that are more desirable to society, and that’s a fact.”

There’s the distinct murmur of grumbling from the adults in the meeting room, and from some of the PFLAG members, but most of the glee club just shakes their heads or even stifles laughter. That’s just how Coach Sylvester is, and they all know it. Puck’s actually surprised it took her this long to weigh in on the matter. 

Once she seems to decide her first few statements have had the desired impact, Coach Sylvester continues. “That’s the thing, though. They’re not more or less special because of who they love or who they kiss or with whom they do any of the disgusting things children do when they’re in the hormone-driven lust-craze of adolescence. They’re not more or less special because a church says so, or a club says so, or society says so. They’re special because _I_ say so. Me. Sue Sylvester is the only one really qualified to identify which children have the abilities and personality to succeed, and you can bet your ass I don’t care about their sexual orientation, gender, or whether or not they own a collection of high heels to put Imelda Marcos to shame.

“And frankly, if you’re judging these children based on any standard other than what they can do and who they can be, you’re not only selling them short, you’re selling yourselves short, too. If you want to make a policy that really has an impact in school, try outlawing laziness, or serving food in the cafeteria made from recognizable animal products. If you want a school of winners, then make sure your policies treat them all equally so that _I_ can decide who deserves the special treatment.”

Coach Sylvester points at the crowd and leans her head forward in a vaguely threatening posture, then says “thanks” and takes her seat again. 

“Thank you, Coach,” the school board president says. “Now, as I mentioned, we’d like to have a short question and answer period with three of those who previously spoke. Is Kurt Hummel in attendance this evening?”

There’s a short silence and then Puck and Finn are both nudging Kurt up and forward. Their hands might rest on his back a little longer than they should, but no one’s going to be really looking at them, except for maybe that hipster reporter. Kurt walks to the podium and adjusts the microphone slightly. 

“Good evening.”

“Good evening to you as well,” the president says, “and thank you for speaking with us. For the minutes, can you state your name, age, and where you attend school?”

“Kurt Hummel, eighteen, and I’m a senior at McKinley High School.”

One of the school board members clears his throat. “Mr. Hummel, could you elaborate on the motivations behind seeking this change in the school district policy?”

“Certainly.” Kurt straightens a little, probably because the question seems a little more hostile than it does supportive. “Our motivation was, and is, to protect all members of the student body equally. Under current policies, that simply is not the case. By removing the language that restricts most support as ‘promotion’, and by adding the language proposed, we will be able to state that all students of Lima City Schools enjoy equal protection.”

“Have there been any further incidences of bullying since the previous meeting, Mr. Hummel? Both for you personally, and in general?”

“Yes, there have.” Kurt pauses. “Personally, my locker has been vandalized, derogatory statements have been made about myself, my personal life, and my family members, and of course there has been the garden-variety name-calling. Beyond my own experience, I know of several students who have been shoved into lockers, accompanied by further derogatory language, other lockers have been vandalized, and most notably, there was physical violence against three PFLAG members that resulted in two expulsions and one arrest, just last Friday afternoon.” 

The most sympathetic of the board members taps on his microphone. “Mr. Hummel, are there any final words you would like to say?”

“As you are all aware, I, along with the other members of the McKinley glee club, have been in New York City this week. In the past year, I have visited several larger cities in Ohio, as well as Chicago, Illinois; and Madison, Wisconsin. The cold, hard fact is that on this issue, Lima City Schools are behind the times. Away from here, it is different, and it will continue to be different, and the gap between our city and much of the rest of the country will widen. The Secretary of State recently said, ‘be on the right side of history’. I would urge each of you to also be on the right side of history.”

With that, Kurt steps back from the podium and sits down again, exhaling as his legs press against Puck’s on one side and Finn’s on the other. There’s some scattered applause, and as the next person is called back, Puck squeezes Kurt’s hand. Finn bumps his knee against Kurt’s, his fingertips brushing against Kurt’s leg briefly. 

The guy they’ve called up is one of the preachers, though it’s not the really awful one that wrote the letter to the editor and everything. Puck tunes most of his question and answer session out, though he does gather that they ask some questions about religion and public funds. After he sits down, the school board president asks Ms. Pillsbury to come up to the podium. 

“Ms. Pillsbury, as the guidance counselor at McKinley High, I know you see most of the reports of bullying. What can you tell me about the difference in how these reports have been treated? For the purposes of this discussion, let’s limit it to the past one to two months.”

“Well,” Ms. P begins, “for starters, I suppose it’s notable that only one of these offenses resulted in an arrest. However, it’s also notable that those individuals have been involved in multiple instances of violence over the school year, and it was only when it escalated to include violence against a teacher than any real action was taken.”

“Yes, we’ve seen the incident report, as well as the police report,” the president states. “What about the less severe incidents?”

“We average between five and ten reports of bullying a week, which includes cyberbullying and acts of vandalism,” Ms. Pillsbury says. “We’re able to pursue slightly over half of them. A lot of the more physical incidents involve some sort of slur or other overt indication that the motivation has something to do with the victim’s sexual or gender orientation. At this point, unless a student has visible injuries and witnesses, there’s very little I’m able to do on his or her behalf in these situations.”

“What is the typical outcome for the incidents that you are able to pursue?”

“Depending on the severity, anywhere from detention to suspension. Luckily, we’ve only had one case this year that escalated to the extent that expulsion was necessary, and of course, that incident was the one involving the attack on three of our PFLAG students.”

“As an educator, Ms. Pillsbury, what would be your recommendation for the board on the issue before us today?”

“Clearly, the limitations placed upon the administrators by Lima City School policy is stymying our ability to address student–on–student harassment and violence,” Ms. Pillsbury explains, looking agitated. “I have genuine concerns about student safety. These incidents have proven time and time again to escalate if not properly addressed. My recommendation for board is to implement the language changes that will allow us to protect our students.”

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Pillsbury.” As Ms. P takes her seat, the president continues talking. “We’re going to have a five minute recess for discussion between the board members before we vote. Please remain seated and refrain from loud discussion during this recess.”

Puck looks around the room again as a low murmur begins, and he snorts and nudges Kurt. “Hipster’s here.”

Kurt laughs. “I’m sure.”

“Can we scare, I mean, uh, talk to him?” Finn asks. 

“Afterwards,” Kurt says firmly. 

“You’d think they’d be done discussing by now,” Puck grumbles. “They’ve had two months.”

“Everything that was added tonight was clearly brand new information,” Kurt says dryly. 

“Maybe they got lost,” Finn suggests. “Or fell into the toilet.”

“Too much to hope for,” Kurt decides. 

Before Puck can respond, the school board all takes their seats. “We’ll be voting now,” he announces. “We have a motion to pass the changes. Do we have a second?” The sympathetic school board member raises his hand. “Seconded by Mr. Michaels. Let’s vote. Mr. Michaels?”

“Aye.”

They go down the line, and the guy who kept talking about ‘special rights’ votes no, followed by a second ‘aye’. The fourth vote is also a ‘no’, which means it comes down to the vote of the school board president. 

“After much deliberation, as well as hearing from many citizens of Lima and even surrounding districts as well, I have found my position on this issue. I vote ‘aye’. The motion carries, 3–2.” He pounds his fist sharply against the table in front of him once. “Meeting adjourned.”

“Wait. So… it’s just over? Like that?” Finn asks. “Two fucking months and that’s all it took? Why didn’t they just do that two months ago?”

“To torture us?” Puck suggests. “But dude, we won!”

“Yeah, but it was that thing, you know what I mean. Where you think it’s gonna be a big deal, but then it’s not a big deal,” Finn says. “And I don’t remember the word, but for some reason it makes me think of sex.”

“Anticlimactic, and I certainly hope it doesn’t,” Kurt sniffs. 

“Just the _word_ , not the definition. And yeah, that’s the word. But no, sex isn’t that.”

It finally seems to sink in with everyone in the room that yes, they did win, and then there’s a loud whoop from the area where Santana was sitting. “Holy fucking shit!” she says afterwards, then “Oh, hell, there’s teachers here,” which makes everyone laugh as they head out the doors and into the parking lot. 

As they’re walking towards a patch of grass, Puck spots the hipster reporter and nudges Kurt, nodding his head towards the reporter, and Kurt does the same to Finn. 

“Oh, hey, that’s that _guy_ ,” Finn says, scowling in the hipster’s direction. As if summoned, the reporter heads in their direction. Stationed on either side of Kurt, both Finn and Puck cross their arms over their chests. 

“Kurt Hummel!” the hipster calls out. “Benji Whitman, _Gay People’s Chronicle_.”

Puck and Finn continue to glare at him, and Kurt raises one eyebrow. “Yes. My profiler.”

“It was what we like to call a ‘focal point piece’,” Benji explains, and actually does air quotes when he says that. He slides his finger across his iPad, then looks up. His gaze goes from Puck to Finn, then back to Puck, then back to Finn again. He looks very confused. “One… of you… called me?”

Puck grins. “Yeah, that’d be me.” He tilts his head towards Kurt. “K still had your card, so when Finn read your little ‘focal point piece’, we decided I’d call.” Just for fun, Puck makes the air quotes too, then folds his arms again. Finn nods his head slowly in agreement. 

“So, you’re the… boyfriend?” Benji sounds a little uncertain. “Well, okay then.” He turns his attention back to Kurt. “Could I get a follow-up statement on your reaction the board’s decision tonight?”

“Certainly,” Kurt says with a slight smirk. “I’m delighted, of course, that the school board agreed with our position that all the students in Lima City Schools deserve equal protection. It would have been wonderful if the vote had been unanimous, but regardless of the exact vote, the policy has changed, and those of us graduating can leave Lima knowing that the students who remain will be fully protected.”

“How quickly do you anticipate seeing changes at McKinley?” Benji asks. “Is the school equipped to address what amounts to, according to your guidance counselor, nearly twice as many bullying cases?”

“I suspect a few examples will have to be made before the message is fully received by the majority of the student body at McKinley. I can’t speak to how well-equipped the staff is.”

“In your opinion, will the teachers and administrators respond well to this change?”

“I think the vast majority will follow the lead of the administration, as they do on most matters. Of course, there are several members of the faculty whom I have every confidence in as far as enforcing the new policy, but overall, it will be up to Principal Figgins.”

Benji nods. “And any final thoughts on the situation?”

“I think I certainly speak for all of us in PFLAG that will be graduating, in that this is exactly the sort of legacy that we’re proud to leave behind us as we go forward in our lives. I also know that many of us have younger brothers and sisters, and of course that’s reassuring, that they will not face the same types of threats and situations.”

Benji taps at his iPad again, then looks back up at Kurt. “Thanks for follow-up, and on a purely personal level, thank you for what you guys did in there. Wish I’d gone to school with kids like you.” He offers his hand, the one not clutching the iPad, to Kurt. Kurt accepts the hand, shaking it once firmly before withdrawing it. 

“Hundredth monkey,” is all Kurt says, with a slight smile, and then they move towards where the other media people are all set up, watching the somewhat–strange duo of Tina and Santana speaking.

They finish whatever they’re saying after just a minute, though, and then Kurt gets pulled into the general media mayhem for fifteen or twenty minutes before he pushes back towards Puck and Finn. “The general consensus appears to be Pat’s again,” he informs them. 

“Can we hide there forever, do you think?” Finn asks. 

“At Pat’s?” Kurt shakes his head. “Did you know, though, that the Days Inn up near Waffle House is only $54 a night?”

“We could go there _right now_ ,” Finn says. “I have, uh. Thirty-something.”

“And what would we do there?” Puck can’t resist asking, voice low as they walk towards the Nav, which Burt parked relatively close.

“Don’t even care as long as we’re naked and there’s kissing,” Finn answers. “So, naked kissing.”

“Just kissing?” Puck carefully pouts in Finn’s direction, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Kurt doing the same. 

“Naked kissing is, like, the baseline. Everything else starts there.”

Kurt and Puck both laugh, and Puck can’t help but think about how easy it is, for the three of them, even though it’s apparently supposed to be difficult and wrong and whatever other negative descriptions that people like Lionel can dig up. It just feels right; it’s everyone else that makes it complicated. 

“Did I mention,” Kurt says casually as they reach the Nav, “that Dad said he and Carole were going home, and that they’d probably be asleep when we got there?”

“We’ll have to be quiet bringing in all our luggage,” Puck says, attempting innocence. 

“I can be quiet,” Finn says. “Sometimes I can be.”

“Surely between the two of us, we can find some other use for your mouth for a little while,” Puck smirks. “Don’t you think so, blue eyes?”

“Mmm, yes, I’m sure we can. Would that help, darling?”

Finn grins. “Yes. I think that would be, like, way helpful.”

They all climb into the Nav, still grinning, and there’s not really any conversation on the short drive to Pat’s, just hands and fingers nudging and squeezing, grins flying between all three of them. When Kurt parks two businesses down, as far from the road and the streetlights as he can, Puck grins a little wider. 

“Backseat,” Kurt says. 

“Do we still have to be presentable?” Puck asks, already unbuckling his seatbelt. 

“Not as,” Kurt answers, and when Puck reaches across and undoes Kurt’s tie, Kurt doesn’t protest. 

“Wet spots?” Finn asks. “Still not allowed?”

“Still not allowed,” Kurt nods. Finn makes a grumbling noise. Kurt shakes his head as they climb over the console and into the back seat next to Finn. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Finn says. “I don’t know if it’s safe to be back here. This is the wet spot zone. You know, like the splash zone at Sea World.”

Puck laughs and leans his head against Finn’s shoulder, then presses his lips against Finn’s neck. “Yeah?”

“Yep. I forgot how to be presentable and how to behave,” Finn says. “It’s been a really long day and my brain is tired now.”

“I’m sure I can remind you,” Kurt says, running his hand through Finn’s hair and turning Finn towards him slightly. “I could remind you of a lot of things.” 

“Oh yeah?” Finn ask, and one of his arms goes around Kurt and the other around Puck, hauling both of them into his lap. “Like what things?”

“Like these things,” Kurt answers, then pulls Finn into a kiss. Puck loosens Finn’s tie and moves his mouth lower on Finn’s neck, almost to his shoulder. Finn’s arm tightens around Puck, his fingers kneading into Puck’s back. Puck nips at Finn’s neck, slowly pulling Finn’s tie completely free.

The hand on Puck’s back slides up to his neck, and then Puck’s being pulled up to kiss Finn. Puck’s lips part against Finn’s, and Finn’s tongue pushes into Puck’s mouth. When Puck pulls away, there’s a moment before he’s kissing Kurt, and Finn starts nibbling on Puck’s ear. 

“We should go in now,” Kurt says reluctantly. “Make an appearance and give Dad and Carole time to fall asleep. Oh, we’re supposed to leave our luggage in the living room even. So we don’t wake them up.”

“Definitely don’t wanna wake them up,” Finn agrees. “But do we _have_ to make an appearance? We could say we got lost or that I had a stroke from all the air travel.”

“Yeah, I think the stroke excuse wouldn’t work any more than getting lost in Lima,” Puck points out, holding back a laugh. 

“A quick appearance,” Kurt says, straightening. “Then we’ll go home.”

“Fine, but I’m having two doughnuts and a cup of coffee,” Finn says. “And a bite of everything you’re having.”

“Okay, darling,” Kurt agrees, and then he opens the door, looking unconcerned as they all exit from the same rear door. Puck stops and removes his own tie, tossing it back inside the Nav, and then they walk down the block and squeeze in the door at Pat’s. 

“Hello, the three boys!” Brittany calls out, from her seat in Santana’s lap. “You’re late!”

“No, the rest of you were early,” Kurt counters with a slight smirk. There’s a few empty chairs scattered around the room, so Puck grabs one and drags it towards where another two are sitting. 

“This is the longest day,” Finn whines, then he lowers his voice. “Can we leave yet?”

Puck snorts. “We just got here.”

“This has been the best day,” Tina says as they sit down. “How are we supposed to top it?”

Finn starts to giggle and then puts his head down on the table. “I’m not presentable,” he announces. 

Kurt raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Oh?” He says. “How so, exactly?”

“I think I forgot how to behave in public,” Finn says. “I should probably be sent right home.” 

Puck nudges him. “You know Kurt has to do his thing for a little while,” he whispers. 

“Can’t we, like, incendivize or something? You know, make it worth his while to _leave_?” Finn whispers back. 

“You and I both know this is like foreplay for him,” Puck laughs quietly. “We should just enjoy watching him.”

Finn whines and leans his head over on Puck’s shoulder. “You watch him. I’ll just sit here and bother you.”

“Uh-huh.” Puck shakes his head slightly and resists the urge to run his fingers through Finn’s hair or to kiss his forehead. “Why don’t you order your doughnuts and coffee?”

“What do you want? I’ll get your stuff, too,” Finn sighs. 

“One of those huge brownies and a chocolate milkshake. Get K some coffee and one of those pastries he likes.”

Finn nods and after a deep, dramatic breath, stands up and goes over to order. Puck turns his attention back towards Kurt, who does seem to be enjoying the attention, discussing the school board and Nationals both with Tina, Mike, and Sam. Puck looks around the restaurant and most of PFLAG seems to be there, along with a lot of the faculty. 

It takes about five minutes before Finn returns with a tray. When he sets Kurt’s coffee and pastry in front of him, Kurt turns and smiles at him brightly. “Thank you, darling.”

Finn shrugs and shakes his head like thanks isn’t necessary, before sitting back down next to Puck. “How much longer, do you think?” he asks quietly.

Puck shrugs. “Ten? Fifteen?”

Before Finn can respond, Coach Beiste stands up. “I know we’re all celebrating the school board’s decision tonight, but I have a little something for Will Schuester and the New Directions!” she announces, brandishing a cake that does say ‘Congratulations New Directions!’ on it. 

Schue’s laughing, clearly delighted. “How did you know?”

Beiste grins. “Monty watched the livestream.” She puts the cake down and starts slicing it. 

“Before any of you leave,” Schue says, “I got an email from Principal Figgins this evening, and he’d like us to perform tomorrow at an assembly. Pick up your T-shirt from me before you go!” He waves one of the T-shirts from Nationals in the air. 

“Meet at Starbucks!” Tina pipes up. “Just like in the autumn, guys!”

Puck shakes his head ruefully. “We’re the favored sons again, now that we’ve brought glory to Lima,” he snorts. 

“We’ve restored honor to the family name,” Finn says, nodding slowly. “Like a samurai movie.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Puck agrees, frowning at the piece of cake that’s found its way to the table in front of him. “It’s not chocolate. Good thing you got the brownie.”

“What would you do without your daily chocolate?” Kurt says with a grin, sliding one hand over Puck’s leg and squeezing gently. “I’d hate to see it, I think.”

“It wouldn’t be pretty,” Puck agrees, grinning back. 

“How about now, do you think?” Finn whispers from Puck’s other side, as he’s hurrying through the last of his slice of cake, doughnuts already gone. “Now can we go?”

Puck leans over to whisper in Kurt’s ear. “Our darling’s rather impatient. Should we take him home now?”

Kurt nods after just a second, putting down his fork and sliding his empty plate away from him. “We should really be going. I’m sure Dad and Carole want to see us, and we don’t want to keep the pregnant lady up too late.” He stands up and flicks his eyes over to Puck and Finn. “Come on, boys. We have to get our very fashionable T-shirts.”

“I’ll get them!” Finn volunteers, almost springing from his seat in Mr. Schue’s direction. After a moment’s conversation, he holds a handful of shirts aloft.

Kurt and Puck start to head towards the door, and Mike grins at them. “Have a good evening, guys. Don’t stay up too late catching up.” 

Puck bites down hard on his lip to keep from laughing out loud, and Kurt just smirks. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll be up for awhile at least. Night, everyone!”

When they join Finn by the door, Finn asks, “What did you say to Mike that’s so funny?”

Kurt grins as they walk outside. “He said we shouldn’t stay up too late, but I said we’d be up for awhile at least.” He raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you agree that’s accurate, darling?”

“Yes,” Finn answers. “Yes we will.”

 

Waking up alone is pretty much the worst thing ever, Finn decides, when his alarm goes off and he’s not actually even still sleeping. Sure, he got to stay in Kurt’s room until 5:30, but then he had to go back to his own bed in his own room, to make sure Friday didn’t start with any mom–explosions or screaming or being thrown into the street. It’s not like he really had that many nights with them, so it shouldn’t feel as awful as it does, but it _does_ , and it’s not going to get any easier to be able to spend a night together.

It’s going to get even harder when he’s in Wisconsin and they’re in New York, though, so maybe 5:30 isn’t all that bad. He still had those hours of sleeping in Kurt’s bed, one arm around each of them, Kurt’s head on his shoulder, and Puck curled up with his head on Finn’s chest. Two weeks ago, he didn’t even have them until 5:30, so he should probably be happy with that. 

Finn takes a quick shower, because he’s definitely that thing that Kurt likes to say they are. Fragrant or whatever. After his shower, he puts on his jeans and then remembers he’s supposed to wear the shirt from Mr. Schue, which Kurt still has, because he’s doing something to ‘fix’ it. When Finn sticks his head into the hall, the only noise is a weird sort of whirring sound coming from Kurt’s room, so Finn crosses the hall, still shirtless, and taps on the door softly.

The weird noise stops, and Kurt’s voice says “Yes?”

“It’s me,” Finn answers, and a moment later, he can hear the door unlock and then Puck swings it open. “Hi.”

“Morning,” Puck says with a slight grin, moving to the side so Finn can walk in, and then Puck shuts the door and locks it again. 

“I like my room very much right now,” Kurt announces, looking up from the sewing machine he’s got out on his desk. “Two shirtless boys, all for me.”

“I couldn’t put on my shirt. You have it,” Finn says. “What are you doing to it, anyway?” He sits down on Kurt’s bed, which still smells like the three of them, and resists the urge to crawl back under the blankets and stay there. 

“Making it fit, instead of having it hang on you like a giant shapeless box of fabric. Of _course_ Schue just got a bunch of extra larges.”

“All of my shirts are extra large,” Finn says. “ _I’m_ extra large.”

“You’re tall, yes,” Kurt agrees with a little hum. “I could fix your other shirts too, you know.”

Puck has a funny little smirk on his face, but Finn ignores him and asks, “Oh, are they not… right?”

“I could just make them better,” Kurt says, shrugging like it doesn’t matter, but if it didn’t matter to him really, he wouldn’t have said anything about it.

“If they’re not how you think they should be, you can fix them,” Finn says. “It’s ok. I want them to look like they’re supposed to.”

Kurt smiles and then tosses one of the T-shirts from Mr. Schue towards him. “There, try that.” He tosses another one at Puck, and pulls the third one on himself. 

Finn puts on the shirt Kurt fixed for him, but once he has it on, he looks down at himself and frowns. “I, uh. I think it’s a little tight, Kurt.”

Kurt frowns and does his head–tilting thing, then shakes his head. “No, it’s not.”

“Are you sure?” Finn smooths down the fabric. “It’s pretty tight.”

“Looks fine to me,” Puck says. His shirt’s pretty tight, too, but not any tighter than some of the other stuff Finn’s seen him wear, and anyway, _he_ looks good in a tight shirt.

“If you’re sure,” Finn says, but he’s not all that sure it looks like it’s supposed to. Too late now, though.

“Mmmhmm,” Kurt says, and then Kurt steps close and pulls Finn down into a hard kiss. His other hand runs down Finn’s side, resting on his hip as he pulls back. “I’m sure.”

“Yours look good, too,” Finn says, then frowns. “I don’t want to go to school. I want to stay here and go back to bed.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Puck asks, his voice suddenly right behind Finn, and Puck’s arm wraps around Finn’s chest from behind. “Who says it has to be in bed?”

“He does have a point, darling,” Kurt giggles. 

“Nobody says. It’s just, the bed’s easier to sleep in after, and it smells so nice in the bed,” Finn says, leaning back against Puck. “This is nice, too, though. I can just stay right here.”

“Also a plan with potential,” Puck notes, and then Puck’s mouth is on Finn’s neck, nipping and sucking. On the other side, Kurt’s doing the same, licking and biting where Finn’s neck and shoulder meet. Finn can hear himself making noises, but they seem like they’re quiet enough, so he just goes with it, sliding one hand up into Kurt’s hair and reaching back with the other to grab Puck by the hip. Finn isn’t sure what the goal is supposed to be here; he thought it was to make it to school at some point, but it might actually be to get undressed again as quickly as possible. He moves the hand on Puck’s hip a little further around, trying to find the front of Puck’s pants. 

Puck’s other hand has more luck finding the front of Finn’s jeans, and then Kurt’s hand is there, too, and they’re pushing his jeans and his underwear down before one hand wraps around Finn’s cock. Puck and Kurt both pull away from his neck and Kurt looks over Finn’s shoulder for just a second before his eyes flick back to Finn. “Turn around, darling.”

Finn doesn’t argue, because it’s Kurt, and he doesn’t argue with Kurt. He just turns around like he’s told. Puck kisses him softly and then slowly slides down onto his knees, his tongue licking across the tip of Finn’s cock. Finn bends his knees a little so it’s easier for Puck to reach, and then he feels Kurt’s tongue on him, Kurt’s hands on his ass, spreading him open, and then Kurt’s tongue is actually _on_ his ass, circling his entrance. Finn freezes and tenses, because yeah, that’s pretty weird, but at the same time, it feels really good, and he’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to be doing right now.

Kurt makes a soft reassuring noise, one hand squeezing very gently, and in front of Finn, Puck takes Finn’s cock into his mouth, one hand resting at the base of Finn’s cock and the other gently cupping Finn’s balls. Finn relaxes, because it’s not like he could stay tense with Puck’s mouth on him like that, and then the tip of Kurt’s tongue is actually pushing inside Finn, slowly moving in and out, fucking Finn with his tongue. Finn didn’t even know that was something people did, that it was a _thing_ but it’s awesome, it feels really fucking awesome, and between Kurt’s tongue and Puck’s mouth, he’s already so close. He cups the back of Puck’s head, not moving him, just holding him, and closes his eyes. 

Someone starts talking quietly, and it takes Finn a second to realize that the only person who could be talking right now is _him_ , and sure enough, he is talking, muttering “oh fuck” and “oh my god, Kurt, oh my god” and “I love you.”

Puck’s mouth moves faster on him, and Puck squeezes his balls just a tiny bit, while Kurt pushes his tongue further inside than before, one hand slowly stroking down Finn’s ass. Finn goes from close to coming so hard and fast that he can’t do anything but hold on to Puck’s head and bite down on his lower lip to keep from yelling. Kurt’s tongue keeps moving inside of him until Finn is completely still, and then almost at the same time, Puck and Kurt both pull away and then stand, wrapping their arms around him, resting their heads on his shoulders. 

“Good, darling?” Puck murmurs. 

Finn has to take a few shaky breaths before he can even answer. “I’m not sure what just happened, but yeah, it was really fucking good.”

Kurt laughs, sounding really pleased with himself. “Feel better about going to school now?”

“Are we doing more of that at school? ’Cause if so, then yes!”

“I suppose we could try to find the time,” Kurt says, and he moves to Finn’s side, grinning. “We really should go soon, unfortunately.”

“We could just skip after the assembly,” Puck suggests. 

“The smart one has a good plan,” Finn says, smiling in a way that feels like it probably borders on too–big, who he doesn’t even care. “I like that plan!”

“Good.” Puck smirks and kisses him again. “Let’s go find our breakfast, because the sooner we leave, the sooner we can come back.” 

“I’m saving myself for a muffin,” Finn says. “I can’t cheat on my future muffin with another breakfast food.”

“Luckily, my scone is more understanding if I eat a Hot Pocket first,” Puck says, rolling his eyes. 

“Muffins are the jealous type,” Finn says, shrugging. 

The three of them head to the kitchen, where Puck heats up a Hot Pocket and Finn grabs a pack of Pop Tarts, just in case Starbucks doesn’t have any of the muffin flavors he likes. Their luggage is still mostly piled up in the living room, but that’ll have to wait for later. Hopefully his mom won’t trip over any of it and break Pretzel, and then get pissed at Finn all over again. Even though he was a little tired when he woke up and is way relaxed now, Finn manages to not fall asleep in the back of the Nav on the short drive to Starbucks, which is a pretty good accomplishment for a Friday morning. 

Mike and Tina are already in the Starbucks when they get there, and that’s when Finn realizes, oh wait, this is the real world and all of them have to enter it again. The real world, for the record, seriously _sucks_ by comparison to the world Finn’s been living in for the last week or so, minus the crazy mom bits. 

“Have a good night?” Mike says with a grin as they sit down. 

Finn’s kind of figured out that Mike’s got _them_ figured out, and that’s weird and all, but also kind of awesome, and Mike seems to think the whole thing is cool or at least funny. “Yep,” is all Finn says.

“Muffin,” Puck announces a minute later, returning with their drinks and food, and he sets Finn’s muffin down in front of him. 

“Pretty sure we decided that pet name was out, dude,” Finn says, grinning. 

“It’s not my fault Schue’s got unfortunate taste in pet names,” Puck says with a shrug, sitting down on the other side of Kurt. He turns to Mike and Tina. “We overheard him on the phone with Ms. P in New York, it sounded like they got engaged.”

Tina grins. “Oh, how nice!”

“Third time’s the charm?” Mike says, then shakes his head. “No, that is cool.”

Everybody else seems to show up all at once, or so close together that it may as well be, and before long it’s a lot louder and way more packed in than it was a few minutes before. Brittany stares at Finn and then Puck.

“Your shirts look better than ours do,” she says. “Are yours magical?”

“Just because Schue got the same size for everyone doesn’t mean we had to leave them looking like boxes of fabric,” Kurt says, alternating bites of oatmeal with bites of his red velvet whoopie pies. 

“Kurt fixed them,” Finn explains to Brittany. “He used his machine thing and I think mine might be a little too small now, but they say it isn’t, so.” He shrugs and she shrugs back at him. 

“It’s not,” Kurt says calmly. 

“It’s only too tight if you rip the seams or something,” Puck adds. 

“And that has been Fashion Advice with Noah Puckerman,” Santana says with a snort.

“It’s not too tight,” Finn says to Brittany. “Apparently.” Brittany nods in agreement.

“You guys,” Rachel suddenly says loudly. “I was talking to my dads last night and I realized that we need to do something about auditions before we leave. So Mr. Schuester will have some people to begin the year.”

“So we can tell them what has to be done to win, and how to work around Mr. Schue’s schedule,” Kurt says dryly. 

“Auditions,” Finn says. “Like, we get to pick who joins? Or just Mr. Schue? ’Cause I think it needs to be us.”

Kurt nods. “It needs to be us, and we need to pick who to pull aside and give even more information to. Mike and Brittany need to figure out who the best dancers are, and so forth.”

“And someone has to pass on the information about warm-ups,” Mike says.

“Costumes,” Tina nods, smiling at Kurt. 

“Travel arrangements,” Puck says. 

“Or we should write a book,” Kurt says with a wry look. 

“A book won’t teach them how to have balls,” Finn says. “Hell, took us to senior year to grow a big enough pair to just stand up and do this ourselves. We need to tell them that’s what they need.”

“So we need to also evaluate everyone’s cojones,” Santana says with a wide grin. “I think there are several of us capable of that task.”

“I know you’re talking about me,” Mike says, also grinning.

“Yeah, you’re the first person I think of.”

“Mike knows everything there is to know about balls,” Finn agrees. “So that’s settled.”

“We should convince Schue to put up notices today,” Kurt says. “Otherwise we’ll run out of days to do it.”

“Two or three afternoons, do you think?” Rachel responds. “Oh, I know! We could invite people to watch our Thursday afternoon rehearsal, if they wanted to know more about the club.”

“We don’t even know what we’re doing Thursday afternoon,” Santana says.

“Schue’ll come up with an assignment,” Puck says, waving his hand dismissively. 

“So we should do Tuesday or Wednesday or both,” Rachel asserts. “And then Friday afternoon, for the people who wanted to watch a rehearsal first.”

“Both,” Finn says, sounding definitive. “We’ll have enough people for two days, at least, plus whoever we get on Friday.”

“Someone should make posters,” Kurt says, but it’s clear from his tone that he’s not volunteering to be that someone. 

“I can work on some during third period,” Tina volunteers.

“Well, that’s all settled, then.” Finn nods. “We’ll leave behind a glee club that doesn’t suck.”

 

None of the other students seem to care all that much about glee club actually winning, but Mrs. Vey gives the four of them a broad smile and a thumbs up, and their physics teacher tells Puck and Kurt not to worry about making up the lab work that they missed. They sit in the back of the room and pay absolutely no attention to the lecture, and when the bell rings, Puck decides to skip third period, since Kurt doesn’t have to go to his third period class anymore, and they go get more coffee and sit in the back of the Nav kissing until fourth period starts. 

Schue is, if possible, more exuberant than he was the night before. “Is everyone ready to perform again?” he asks with a large grin. “Before we get too busy, we have two more assignments for the rest of the year.”

“Almost done!” Sam says, and there’s some scattered laughter and whoops. They are almost done – two more assignments, two more weeks, and that’s it. Done. 

“First of all, we’ve been asked to sing at your graduation, so in an effort to find a song, for next week, let’s do some ‘end of the year’ songs!” He beams again. “And during the final exam period for fourth period, I have a final assignment for you.” 

The idea of a ‘final exam’ for glee club is sort of funny, and Puck bites back a laugh. He can just imagine a quiz on what artist Rachel sang the most, or something like that. 

“In this hat, I have a slip of paper for the past twelve months. There are twelve of you. Each of you will draw a month and select a song that best sums up that month, either for you personally or for the group as a whole. We’ll start with June 2011 and go through now, May 2012; please, no swapping, and try not to share your month with anyone else.”

Puck frowns a little; there are definitely a few months he’d prefer not to relive through song or otherwise, but maybe he’ll get one of the more decent months. Finn leans over and whispers in Puck’s ear, “If you get a month you hate, I’ll totally swap with you.”

Puck grins briefly and then Schue’s calling them all up to the front, and he’s apparently serious about the ‘no swapping’ thing, because he writes down the month they each draw as soon as it’s drawn. Finn looks tremendously relieved at whatever month he gets. Puck can’t help grinning to himself when he sees ‘July 2011’ staring up at him – August or September would have been even better, maybe, but he didn’t get June or October or February. Kurt doesn’t react at all to his, which makes Puck narrow his eyes, but Kurt does such a thorough job of not reacting that Puck can’t settle on whether it’s very good or very bad. 

“So, Mr. Schue,” Finn says, once they’ve all returned to their seats. “We decided we’d like to set up auditions for next week, so that you’ll already have your next glee club ready to go when the school year starts. Thought that would give us a chance to talk them about all the stuff if took us three years to figure out!”

Schue looks startled for a minute, then grins and laughs. “Yeah, that would be nice to know I had at least a few members ready to start when school does. When did you have in mind?”

“We’re gonna get some posters up today, shoot for Tuesday and Wednesday,” Finn explains, “then invite people out to watch us rehearse on Thursday if they’re still on the fence, with one more round of auditions on Friday.” He grins at Schue. “Need me to write it down on the whiteboard?”

“Just let him have one of the posters!” Tina interjects, picking up a stack of posters underneath her seat. “See?”

“Wow, guys.” Schue shakes his head. “How did you have time for all of this?”

“We’re awesome. Awesomeness just naturally flows from us,” Finn says. 

“Like a slushie machine,” Brittany adds. “One that’s full of awesomeness.”

“Okay, well.” Schue looks a little confused, which Puck can’t really blame him for. “One last thing. Next Thursday night is Senior Showcase. Technically, all seniors involved in a performing art can have a slot during the program, as well as a group slot, but usually, the entire glee club isn’t graduating.”

“So what does that mean?” Santana asks challengingly. 

“It means I’d like all of you to consider choosing to sing in groups. We can still take several of our slots, but rather than twelve solos, maybe we should aim for one group number and four or five smaller groups.”

“Are you absolutely certain that we can’t have any solos?” Rachel asks, sounding almost desperate, and Puck has to wonder if she’s had Senior Showcase on a calendar or something for the past three years. 

Puck can hear Finn choking on a laugh before raising his hand. “Mr. Schue?” Finn says. “Just let her have a solo. Nobody’s gonna mind and that kind of makes it more like old school glee club. It’ll be, uh. Nystagmic.”

“Nostalgic, Finn,” Kurt hisses through a giggle. “Otherwise our eyes are all going to be twitching.”

“ _Nostalgic_ , I meant, obviously,” Finn says, a little louder. “Rachel can have a solo and we’ll all sway in the background. Might be a nice break from all that singing.”

Almost everyone starts laughing, and Rachel turns pink, but the rest of them nod. “Yeah, Mr. Schue,” Puck backs Finn up. “Just let her have a slot. I mean, we _should_ take as many of the slots as we want to. It’s not like the marching band won any competitions, and you know we’re going to have to listen to trumpet solos or something.”

“Thank you both,” Rachel says, smiling at Finn and Puck, then looking at Mr. Schue. “Mr. Schuester?”

“All right,” Mr. Schue concedes. “Just let me know what we’re doing on Monday or Tuesday so they can finalize the program.”

“I will attempt to finalize my selection tonight!” Rachel says with a vigorous nod, and everyone else just nods. 

“In that case, then, let’s go get ready to perform!” Schue says. 

The performance goes well; they go through their set for Nationals in the gym with most of the school watching, and at the end, they make a big show of ‘presenting’ the trophy to Figgins, which means that they don’t get too many jeers, and a little more applause than they usually would at an assembly. By the time that’s over, Puck’s starving, because it turns out a Hot Pocket and a scone still isn’t much of a breakfast, and he catches Finn’s eye, then Kurt’s, as they head for the door. 

“Well, that was a productive school day,” Finn announces. “I probably would have enjoyed the last four years a lot more if they were all like that.”

Puck laughs. “How many classes did you actually go to? And stay awake in?”

“I went to all of the ones I had to go to, and I only slept in history,” Finn says. “See? Great day.”

“Somehow I was expecting more sleeping,” Kurt comments. 

“Is it that the school day that was great, or is it the fact that we’re going to go get lunch and then head back to an empty house?”

“See, in my world, that’s all stuff that would be part of a normal school day!” Finn says. “It would be coffee, maybe one or two classes, some singing, lunch, then sex. Then we just call it a day, maybe get some dinner after, watch a movie.”

“I guess we have an agenda for the rest of the day,” Puck snorts. 

“That’s my leadership qualities coming out,” Finn explains. “I’m an agenda–setter.”

“Well, then,” Kurt begins, “where are we eating lunch, Mr. Setter of Agendas?”

Finn looks thoughtful for a moment. “Buffet–something. I want a little bit of a lot of different things.”

Puck grins. “We’ve noticed.”

Finn makes a face like he’s going to argue, then shrugs. “Yeah, it’s true.”

“Chinese, Old Barn, or Golden Corral?” Kurt asks. 

“Chinese,” Finn says. “I think I’m making fucking mac ’n’ cheese for dinner tonight, and I want something different, in case it actually turns out this time. If it doesn’t, we’ll just have pizza.”

Puck winces to himself because, oh, family dinner night will be awkward. Burt’s probably the only one who won’t think it’s awkward, and depending on _how_ tense it is, he might pick up on it. 

“That works,” Kurt nods, heading towards the Nav. “Cheese for dinner either way.”

“See? Win-win,” Finn says. “Everybody likes cheese!”

“And if I don’t like it, I’ll just throw it on the floor,” Kurt jokes. 

“Carole’ll make you clean it up,” Puck snorts. “With a side helping of glare.”

They all climb into the Nav, and once Finn is buckled in the back, he says quietly, “I’m going to lie.”

“About?” Puck asks. 

Finn hesitates, before his finally says. “Us. I’m going to lie to her about us. And look, I already feel bad enough about _thinking_ about it, but it can’t keep on like that, ok? So just… I’m gonna lie.”

“How, exactly?” Kurt says after a moment. 

“I don’t know yet. I’m gonna figure out what I think she wants to hear and that’s what I’m telling her.” Finn’s voice drops even lower. “Don’t hate me.”

“We’re not going to hate you, darling,” Kurt says quickly, and Puck nods his agreement. 

“I don’t _want_ to lie. I don’t like it. I feel like an asshole. I just don’t know what else to do,” Finn says. “I’ve got to be there until July. You guys have to be there until August. It can’t keep going on like this, with her freaking out constantly.”

“No,” Kurt agrees slowly. “It can’t.”

“Pretty sure even between the three of us, we can’t quite swing a separate apartment,” Puck snorts, nodding. 

“See, this is like I was saying. I don’t need consumer math, I just ask you, baby.” Kurt laughs and then sobers. “If Puck says we can’t, we can’t, sadly.”

“Fuck, you guys. I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Puck asks, turning his head to look at Finn and then raising his eyebrows. 

Finn’s head is hanging, his chin almost on his chest. He shrugs slightly. “For not standing up to her? For not knowing _how_ to stand up to her?”

“Or maybe she should be sorry, for putting you in the position of having to even try,” Kurt says, his lips pursed. “You’re a little too old for her to try to shame you, even if that were an effective technique, which… I don’t think it is. You’re not in the wrong here, Finn. And maybe we _should_ keep checking in on foursquare, at least until we have a better plan.”

“If you don’t want me to say something, I won’t,” Finn says, still talking into his own chest. “Or tell me what else to say or what else I can do, and that’s what I’ll do instead.”

“We just want you to be able to coexist with her,” Puck says bluntly. “At this point, it doesn’t really matter to me, at least, what you tell her, as long as you can live with it. We keep locking the doors and avoid the living room, I guess.”

“Puck’s right. Do what you need to do, darling. We’re not going to judge you for that.”

“I just want her to love me again,” Finn says, barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of the Nav on the road. 

“Finn,” Kurt breathes softly, but he doesn’t argue with Finn, and Puck doesn’t either, because it doesn’t matter if Carole does or doesn’t love Finn at the moment, if Finn feels like she doesn’t. Kurt pulls into the parking lot at the Chinese buffet, and Puck turns around to grab Finn’s hand and squeeze it tightly between both of his. Finn looks up and gives Puck a shaky smile, eyes shiny. 

“C’mon,” Puck says after a minute. “Let’s go make them regret the ‘all you can eat’ sign.”

 

Before Burt or Carole get home, Puck, Finn, and Kurt are all freshly showered, all the doors are open, and Finn is in the kitchen, swearing and attempting to improve upon his last attempt at his fucking mac ’n’ cheese. At least he’s using a hot pad, this time. 

“Did you want us to do anything, darling?” Kurt asks, leaning against the doorway, and Puck grabs a can of pop from the refrigerator for each of them. “Salad or something?”

“Yeah, that’s—fuck—good. Salad is—god fucking _dammit_ —good,” Finn says, pulling open the oven door and poking his mac ’n’ cheese with a long wooden spoon. “Shit.”

Burt and Carole still aren’t home, so Puck goes ahead and runs his hand down Finn’s back. “Hey, just remember, it’s a self-cleaning oven,” Puck says wryly, then hands Finn his can of pop before heading back to the refrigerator. He and Kurt pull out stuff for a salad and then find a bowl to put it all in. 

“I followed the recipe I found on the internet,” Finn sighs, opening his pop. “I did everything they said. Why is it still fucking up? I can’t even do fucking mac ’n’ cheese right!”

“Didn’t they always tell us not to trust the internet?” Kurt asks. “Maybe you found a high-altitude recipe or something.”

“I just wanted it to turn out right. I really needed it to be good.” 

“Well, let’s taste-test it?” Kurt suggests, and Puck shrugs, adding the leftover radish slices to the salad. 

“It’s all boiled over the sides and the sides are all gross now, and it _looks_ bad,” Finn says, but he gets a hot pad and retrieves the pan from the oven. “I mean, look at it.”

“But it might still taste fine,” Puck points out. “I mean, lots of things look kind of weird but taste good, so.” He pauses. “Like those snails, they looked even weirder than I thought they would, but they were really good.”

“They made you taste garlicky,” Finn says. “But not snaily.”

“They were garlicky,” Puck agrees, then takes a spoon from Kurt, who hands another one to Finn. 

“Let’s just see how it is,” Kurt insists. “You go first, darling.”

Finn digs the spoon into the mac ’n’ cheese and takes a tentative bite. “Well, it’s better than last time.”

“Yeah?” Puck spoons a bite into his mouth and chews it thoughtfully. “Hmm. It’s weirdly salty. But you didn’t add salt, did you?”

“I didn’t add any salt,” Finn says. “Not any.”

Kurt frowns and walks back to the refrigerator as soon as he takes his bite, opening the door and then frowning. “I see the culprit. Someone bought salted butter instead of unsalted.”

“If I just throw this whole thing out and order a pizza, do you think they’ll even notice? Or care?” Finn asks. 

“Notice? Depends on if you take out the trash and wash the pan, I guess,” Kurt shrugs. 

“God, I suck so much,” Finn says. He puts his arms on the table and buries his head in them. “I just wanted to make a fucking pan of fucking mac ’n’ cheese,” he mumbles. “Why is that so fucking hard?”

Puck runs his hand back up Finn’s back, and Kurt crosses the kitchen again, combing his fingers through Finn’s hair. “Shh, darling,” Kurt says quietly. “Pizza’s fine. Love you.”

“Love you,” Finn replies, head still in his arms. “Fuck.”

“Mmm, not enough time,” Puck jokes. “Want us to make the kitchen pretty real quick?”

“I’ll just dump this shit into the trash,” Finn sigh, finally lifting his head. “Hey, I could just put the whole dish in there and maybe mom won’t notice.”

“It doesn’t really match any of the others.” Kurt shrugs a little. “And no, she probably wouldn’t, since she didn’t notice she bought the wrong butter.” He glares at the refrigerator like it was involved, too. “Can’t bake with salted butter, either.”

“Put the butter in the trash, too,” Finn says. “This never happened.” He wipes the back of his hand across his eyes, even though he’s not _quite_ crying. “I’m ordering a fucking pizza.”

“Order two,” Kurt suggests. “One with extra tofu for the adults. One with actual meat for us.”

“Tofu is good for Pretzel,” Finn says, punching the listing in his contacts for the pizza place. “Extra tofu is extra good for her.”

“Exactly,” Kurt says airily. “You’re just looking out for Pretzel.”

“Best big brother ever,” Finn agrees, then turns away to place the order. 

While Finn’s on the phone, Kurt and Puck toss the dish and clear out the sink, which is good timing, because just as Finn ends the call, Kurt tilts his head. “Dad’s home.”

“Pizza’s ordered,” Finn says, pocketing his phone. 

“We can still have salad, I guess,” Puck shrugs and passes the bowl of salad to Finn, who scoops himself up a generous serving.

“I should tell them it’s _just_ salad,” Finn whispers.

Puck puts his hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter, and Kurt does the same, both of them nodding their agreement as Burt enters the house. 

“Something smells good,” Burt says, walking into the kitchen. He looks disappointed when he sees the salad bowl on the table. “Oh, just salad? I thought I smelled cheese.”

“That must have been from before,” Finn says, looking at his salad and not at Burt. “We made, uh. Cheese toast. For breakfast.”

“It was probably the nachos, though,” Puck throws out. “Remember?”

“Oh, yeah. A lot of cheese today. Gets mixed up,” Finn says, shrugging.

“Uh-huh,” Burt says, narrowing his eyes at Finn slightly. “So, how was school today, boys?”

“Figgins had us perform at an assembly,” Kurt answers. “Oh, and we all have to decide what we’re doing for Senior Showcase next week.”

“I was thinking drum solo like Animal from the Muppets,” Finn says. 

Puck flicks the back of Finn’s head. “The three of us should do that song we did for the Bo Diddley thing,” he says, smirking a little. 

“Ow, asshole!” Finn exclaims, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry, Burt. And, yeah, that song was, uh.” He pauses and his face turns a little red. “Yeah. I forgot how much I liked that song.”

Puck grins and leans against the wall, and they can hear Carole coming inside the house now, which means the tension level just ratcheted up a bunch, and Puck can feel his grin shrinking. When Carole appears in the doorway, her smile is a little fixed as she looks at the three of them, and then it grows a little more genuine when she looks at Burt. “Hi, Burt.” She kisses his cheek. “Hi, boys. Finn, what’s for dinner? Just salad?”

“I ordered a pizza, mom,” Finn says, smiling broadly at her. His smile looks forced. “I got the kind that’s really good for Pretzel, ’cause I know you’re counting all your proteins and all of that.”

“Oh, well. Thank you.” Carole looks a little confused, and her fixed smile droops a little. Puck has the sudden thought of wondering what Carole’d do if he just bent over and kissed Finn, but then, he does need a place to sleep for a few more months, so he should probably keep that impulse under control. When he glances at Kurt, Kurt’s jaw is set, and Puck wonders if Kurt is having similar thoughts. 

“Oh, Carole, I was going to bake this afternoon,” Kurt says, voice deceptively calm. “But the butter was salted.”

“Yes,” Carole says, smiling a little. “I did get salted this time! My pregnancy diet says sodium is important during pregnancy.”

“Can you go back to unsalted, please?” Kurt sighs. “Dad doesn’t need the extra salt, and most baked goods assume you’re using unsalted butter.”

“Oh, well, I can think about it,” Carole says, and there’s a brief look exchanged between Carole and Kurt before she breaks it and sits down heavily at the table. “So, tell me more about your trip, boys!”

“M&Ms come in three hundred different colors,” Finn says. “Allison took me to the M&M store and I bought, like, twenty seven of the colors.”

“They have chocolate–bacon cupcakes,” Puck says with a grin. “I think I found a great new plan for breakfast.”

“I ate at nine different places. Allison took me to all these little restaurants and carts, and we all all kinds of stuff. It was awesome.”

“Did either of you boys have luck with your job hunt?” Burt asks.

“We did,” Kurt answers, Puck nodding. “Relatively close to each other, actually. You should be glad you don’t pay the same hourly rate here, Dad.”

“That high, huh?” Burt chuckles. “Well, cost of living differences. Don’t start feeling rich just yet.”

“That does not seem to be a problem we’ll have,” Kurt says dryly. 

“And the competition?” Carole says. “How did your duet with Rachel go, Finn?”

“We sounded great. Nailed it. I didn’t even screw up the dancing too bad or anything.”

“Or at all,” Puck points out. “On any of the songs.”

“Everybody did great,” Finn answers, noncommittally. 

“We did win,” Kurt says, just as there’s a knock on the dor. “Oh, that must be our pizza.” He manages to make it sound disingenuous instead of put-on, which is somewhat impressive. 

“I’ll go get that,” Finn says. He practically bolts from his chair, and takes a little longer to return with the pizza than is probably necessary. 

Carole does make a bit of a face when presented with the tofu–laden pizza, and Burt’s face looks downright pouty. “Tofu? Again?” Burt complains.

“It’ll help make up for the salt in the butter,” Kurt says, his smile a little bright as the three of them get pieces of meat–laden pizza. 

“So you had a nice time with this Allison?” Carole asks Finn. 

“Yeah,” Finn mumbles around his mouthful of pizza. “She’s pretty awesome. It’s cool she’s going to school with Puck, ’cause if I go visit, we can hang out and eat more.”  
s  
“Oh,” Carole manages to look disappointed even after swallowing a bite of tofu pizza, when Puck would be happy to have one less bite to choke down. “That is nice, I suppose. To have someone to… eat with.”

Finn cuts his eyes over at Puck, then looks back at Carole. “Well, I mean, hang out with her _and_ eat. She knows all these great places around the city, and, you know. She could, uh, take me to them. We could go to them, together.” He glances over at Puck again with a weird expression on his face, raising his eyebrows like he’s asking for help or something. Puck isn’t sure exactly what Finn’s looking for, but he nods slowly, because if Finn’s thinking what Puck would be thinking, it’s not a bad plan. “She’s kinda the coolest girl I’ve met in a long time,” Finn adds. 

Carole’s smile is the most genuine that Puck’s seen since last Friday night. “Oh, that’s good to hear, Finn,” she says. “I’m glad you had a nice day with her.”

“Yeah, she added me on Facebook so we could tag each other in all the pictures,” Finn says. “So, if you look at my Facebook, you’ll probably see all the ones she took, too. We took a lot of pictures.”

“And none from a significant height,” Kurt says sadly, shaking his head. “You’re missing out, d— Finn.”

“Nope,” Finn says. “Definitely didn’t miss out on height. I’ve got all the height I ever need, ever, in my whole life.”

No one else seems to notice Kurt’s slight slip of the tongue, and Carole nods in what Puck thinks is supposed to be a reassuring manner. “Oh!” Carole says. “I nearly forgot. Burt and I were talking earlier about doing something special to celebrate.” Her smile is genuine again. “We can all go out to Squirty Worm!”

“Well, I, uh. Guess it has been a while since I’ve played putt-putt, I guess,” Finn says. “So that’s definitely… special.”

 

Puck feels like he should at least make an appearance at services on Saturday morning for Hannah’s sake, so he puts on clean clothes and drives over to the synagogue, which makes his mom act horribly surprised and Hannah just starts chattering a mile a minute about the many exciting events in Lima while he was gone. He is a little surprised to realize his mom and Hannah and Nana were at the school board meeting again, since none of them came to find him. Then again, he and Finn were spending most of their energy and focus on glaring at some of the reporters; Benji Whitman wasn’t the only recipient of a glare that night. 

When services are over and Puck drives back to the Hudmel house, he and Kurt grab some sandwiches from the kitchen and then head up briefly to Finn’s room. Kurt shuts the door and locks it, knowing Carole and Burt are both downstairs, too, and Puck pulls Finn towards him, the resulting kiss a little sloppy and messy. When Puck pulls away, there’s just a second before Kurt’s lips touch Finn’s, and Puck stays close to Finn’s chest, Finn’s fingers holding tightly to the front of Puck’s shirt. 

“We’re going to go down to Dayton and get those movies for tonight,” Kurt murmurs softly. “Okay?”

“Ok,” Finn whispers back. He rests his forehead against Kurt’s and doesn’t let go of Puck’s shirt. “I’m gonna… you know. Talk to her.”

Kurt nods, swallowing a little, and Puck puts his hand over Finn’s. “Okay, darling,” Puck says quietly. 

Finn’s hold on Puck’s shirt loosens and he sighs. “I’m sorry that I’m a liar. I hate it.”

“Yeah, well,” Puck says a little roughly. “We love you.”

Finn nods. “I love you, too. So much.”

“We’ll see you at dinner, okay?” Kurt says, his voice a little thick. “Love you, darling.”

They head back downstairs, more or less ignoring Carole even though she’s in the kitchen when they grab some snacks to take with them. Out of all the suggestions for the movie night, the best options weren’t on Instant Play, so Kurt had just decided to go buy them. Of course, that means going down to the gay–friendly bookstore in Dayton, because they aren’t exactly the kind of thing that any stores in Lima stock. 

Puck snorts amusedly to himself as they climb into the Nav, and Kurt looks at him questioningly. “I was just imagining the Wal-Mart here having either of these movies,” Puck explains, and Kurt laughs a little. 

“They might do it, up until the point that they actually realized what they were _about_.” Kurt shakes his head and falls silent until they’re on the interstate. “He wants us to tell him what to do instead of lying, but. I don’t know that there is anything.”

Puck shakes his head. “There’s not. I’ve been thinking about that, actually.” He shifts a little in his seat. “It’s not… I don’t think it’s just that it’s three of us, or that you and he are stepbrothers.”

“It’s not?” Kurt doesn’t look surprised, but he gestures for Puck to continue. 

“Maybe I’m reading into stuff now that wasn’t there then, you know? But there were always things Finn wasn’t supposed to do. ‘We don’t hug our friends like that, Finn’ or ‘You two are getting too big to share a bed when Noah spends the night’ but sometimes it felt like ‘big’ really meant ‘too old’, you know?”

“It’s okay for everyone else, but not _my_ son?” Kurt says softly. 

Puck shrugs. “I dunno. Like I said, it’s easy to see stuff _now_. Especially when thinking back on it’s more interesting than whatever the rabbi’s saying.” He grins a little, then lets it fade. “And I know he feels shitty about lying, but it seems like it’s the best thing to do.”

Kurt nods. “No, I think it is. It’s… it’s just a few months.” He winces as he says that, and Puck nods, tight-lipped. It is just a few months, as much as they’re all doing their best to ignore that fact. Puck feels sort of like the Jekyll and Hyde guy – half of him can’t wait to just finish in Lima and get back to New York and get on with life, but the other half needs the summer to stretch on forever, because at the end of July, Finn’s going to be in Madison, and Lima may be ten hours from New York, driving, but it’s over sixteen hours between Madison and New York, and like Burt said, they shouldn’t start feeling rich. Airplane tickets aren’t exactly cheap. 

 

Finn doesn’t go downstairs until he hears the Nav pull away, and since it’s not a very noisy car, he has to listen pretty closely for that. When they’re gone, Finn goes down to the kitchen, where his mom is sitting at the table. He pours himself a cup of coffee and stands leaning against the counter.

“Hey mom?” Finn finally says. “Can I talk to you?”

Carole looks up, and since there’s no one else around, there’s no fake smile. “What about, Finn?” Her voice is flat. 

Finn pulls out a chair and sits down, setting his mug down on the table. “About, uh. What happened. Last Friday.”

Carole’s eyes narrow. “I’m not sure I want to hear what you have to say, if we’re being honest, here. But continue.” 

He picks up his coffee and takes a long, slow sip, running over everything in his head one more time, trying to be sure that this is the only thing he can do at this point. No certainty comes, though, just that same helpless feeling he’s had for over a week now. Finn takes another sip of his coffee before setting the mug down on the table. It hits a little too hard and coffee sloshes up over the side, and his mom frowns. 

Before she can say anything else, Finn blurts out, “You were right. What I did was wrong.”

She looks surprised, and it’s a few seconds before she responds, exhaling loudly first. “Well, Finn. I’m glad that you can see that.”

Finn can’t look her directly in the face, not if he’s going to continue with this. “I shouldn’t have… gotten in the way. Of their relationship. That was wrong. The two of them, they’re.” He takes a deep breath, mentally kicks himself for stalling out like this. “They’re happy and I was just messing things up. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Carole nods slowly. “I hope you’ve apologized to them for that.”

Finn swallows and nods his head. “They know I’m sorry.”

“As I said last week. I know it’s been several months since you broke up with Rachel.” Carole smiles, then, what’s probably supposed to be a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure it helped meeting new people. Just wait until you get to school, Finn, of course there aren’t as many people in Lima, especially people you don’t already know.”

Finn nods again. “Yeah. I’m… I was just lonely, probably. I got confused. Like you said, I’m, you know. Needy. I shouldn’t have… I mean, that wasn’t fair to them. What I did.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Carole sighs. “But I am glad, Finn.” She smiles a little more genuinely. “You’ve really matured this year. I’m very proud of you, you know.”

“Yeah?” Finn asks, quietly, because he remembers what it feels like when she’s proud of him. It doesn’t feel like this. It didn’t used to, anyway. 

“Of course.” She reaches across the table and pats his hand. He doesn’t jerk his hand away, but he doesn’t make any other move, either. 

“That’s… cool,” Finn says, finally. “I’m glad.”

Carole almost looks a bit weepy. “I can’t believe how different everything’s going to be soon. You two off at school, a new baby, all the rooms upstairs changed.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know where we’ll fit all of you for holidays!” she laughs. 

“Yeah, all the rooms changed,” Finn echoes, because yeah, that makes sense. Pretzel has to have a room, right? And that’s probably what mom meant, when she was talking about figuring out where to put the rest of Finn’s stuff when he goes to Madison, that Finn’s room would be Pretzel’s room. That makes so much sense.

“You and Kurt don’t feel like we’re trying to erase you or anything, do you?” Carole asks, suddenly frowning again. “I know Kurt said he was fine with the idea, making a guest room and a room for the baby instead of your bedrooms, but we don’t want you to feel unwelcome or like you’re supposed to stay away.”

Honestly, the room thing doesn’t make Finn feel any more unwelcome than he’s felt since last Friday. What’s one more thing? “No, it’s fine,” Finn says, forcing himself to smile. “Kurt’s right. I mean, of course Kurt’s right, he’s _smart_. He knows what he’s talking about with the room stuff.”

“We’ll have to talk about names before you two leave!” Carole announces. “Something that you can both agree on.”

Finn nods faintly. “Yeah. Maybe something from one of those old movies Kurt likes. Something classy.”

Carole smiles. “That sounds good. Now, I was going to go get some snacks before the movie night tonight. Anything I need to get?”

“Uh. Just some pop and some chips. Maybe some of those frozen wings? Or bagel bites or something,” Finn says. “Anything like that, I guess.”

“Okay.” Carole stands up slowly. “I think Burt and I will stay upstairs while everyone’s here, but don’t worry about the noise.”

“Ok, mom,” Finn says. “Thanks. You know, for listening.”

“Of course, sweetie.”

“I’m gonna go work on my glee assignment upstairs,” Finn says. He stands up, too, and there’s an awkward moment where he’s pretty sure his mom expects him to hug her. He doesn’t, though. He just gives her one more smile and then walks up the stairs to his room, shutting and locking the door behind himself, then flinging himself face-first onto his bed. He’s a coward and now he’s a liar, and his mom is happy, and he feels like shit.

 

They return from Dayton with _Shelter_ , as planned, and _Imagine You & Me_, which wasn’t actually the second movie they were going to get, but one of the people working there recommended it, and hey, it’s a rom com. The girl checking them out even assured them it has a happy ending. 

“Hello?” Kurt calls out as they walk into the hall. 

There’s no answer, and Puck can hear music upstairs, so they walk through the first floor, leaving the movies in the living room, and go up the stairs. All the doors are closed, and Puck leans against the wall next to Finn’s door as Kurt knocks. 

The music stop abruptly and then Finn says, through the door, “Who is it?”

“Wayward youth,” Puck jokes. 

“Did you come to repent?”

“No,” Kurt answers. “We’re unrepentant.”

There’s the sound of Finn unlocking the door, then it opens. “Ok, you can come in, then?” Finn says. Finn looks a bit like overdone cake again; his eyes are just red enough that he may or may not have been crying. They go into Finn’s room quickly, so he can shut and lock the door again. Judging by the look on Finn’s face, he probably did, in fact, talk to Carole after they left. 

“Hi, darling,” Kurt says softly, and they pull Finn between them, wrapping their arms around him. 

“Hey,” Finn says, going almost limp against them, leaning his body against theirs. 

Puck lifts his head up, pressing his lips against Finn’s, and pushes his body closer. Finn’s lips part slightly, and Puck slides his tongue into Finn’s mouth and brings one hand up to Finn’s face. 

“We love you,” Kurt murmurs from near Finn’s ear. Finn makes a soft noise into Puck’s mouth and then kisses him harder, his tongue moving against Puck’s, one of his hands slipping under the back of Puck’s shirt and along his back. 

Puck slides his hand up Finn’s jaw and into his hair, holding him there. He’s not sure what Kurt’s doing, but he can feel Kurt’s hand between he and Finn, and then Finn makes the squeaky noise that means Kurt’s fingers have found his nipple. Puck pulls back and rests his forehead against Finn. “Too many clothes.”

Finn nods. Puck moves his hands to Finn’s jeans, and Kurt starts working on Finn’s shirt. “Arms up, darling,” Kurt says, and Finn lifts his arms as Kurt pulls Finn’s T-shirt off. Puck pushes Finn’s jeans and underwear down, then quickly pulls his own clothes off as Kurt does the same. 

“Better?” Puck asks, closing the distance between he and Finn, and then he bends his head down, licking across Finn’s nipple. 

Finn whimpers quietly and says, “Almost.”

“I want to be inside you, darling,” Kurt says. “Would you like that?”

“ _Please_ ,” Finn whispers. “Please. Yes.”

Puck tugs Finn towards the bed, the three of them slowly making their way onto it. “And you inside me,” he adds, sitting down and pulling both Kurt and Finn down as well. Finn’s mouth is back on Puck’s before they even hit the bed, his hands moving over Puck’s chest and sides. 

“Quiet,” Kurt cautions, and Puck nods slightly, still kissing Finn. Puck picks up one of Finn’s hands, tilting his hips and putting Finn’s hand down on his ass. 

Finn pulls his mouth off of Puck’s long enough to ask, “Supplies?”

“Check your drawer,” Kurt says, sounding amused. Finn reaches over to his side table and pulls open the drawer.

“Gay ninjas!” Finn says, sounding impressed. 

Kurt giggles, and Puck grins. “So fuck me already, darling.”

Finn gives Puck a crooked smile as he pours lube into his hand and then coats his cock. “If you say so,” Finn says, then slowly, but steadily, pushes inside of Puck, closing his eyes. “Oh god, Puck. You feel so good.”

Puck shifts his hips, moving his legs, and nods, even though Finn can’t see him at the moment. “Fuck, yeah.” He winces. “Fuck, we have to be quiet.”

“Oh shit, I don’t know if I can be quiet,” Finn says. 

“Kiss me while we fuck,” Puck responds, reaching up with one hand and running his fingers through Finn’s hair. Finn’s mouth slams into Puck’s, Finn’s tongue pushing inside Puck’s mouth. Puck squeezes around Finn and drops his mouth open more widely, his fingers tightening in Finn’s hair. Finn’s hands slide up Puck’s thighs, pushing his legs further back, fingers digging into Puck’s skin. 

Finn’s kiss is desperate, and when he makes undecipherable noises into Puck’s mouth, Puck assumes Kurt’s pushed inside of him. They’re moving together, all three of them, and he can feel Kurt’s fingers brush against his, curled around the back of Finn’s neck. Finn’s hand is curled around Puck’s cock, pumping up and down slowly, and even with Puck’s mouth covering Finn’s, Finn’s still managing to make some noise, and maybe they should have turned Finn’s music back on. Puck throws one arm out towards the bedside table and the dock that Finn’s phone was sitting on, and he manages to get music going again, which will help. 

It’s good timing, too, because Finn starts babbling, his mouth right against Puck’s. “Needed you, needed this, missed you, oh god Puck, needed you.” Finn’s thrusting hard into Puck, his fingernails cutting into Puck’s thighs from how hard Finn’s holding him. “Love you two, love you both, love you,” then, louder, “Oh, god, Kurt, please, pleaseplease _please_!”

“Come for us, darling, come for us,” Kurt whispers, and Finn comes, making a low noise that almost sounds like a sob, his head dropping forward to touch Puck’s. Finn’s hand keeps moving on Puck’s cock, a little faster, and Puck thrusts up into Finn’s hand as he comes, biting down on his lip in case the blaring music isn’t quite enough. 

Finn’s bed, though, isn’t quite as big as Kurt’s, and Kurt sits up first, fingers trailing across Puck’s side and Finn’s back. “Do we need to fix anything downstairs?” Kurt asks Finn quietly. “Before the hordes descend?”

“There’s some wings or bagel bites, maybe both,” Finn says. “I didn’t check to see which she got.”

Kurt nods. “Shower, then, followed by food.” He leans over and kisses Finn quickly. “And yes, we all have to shower.”

“Wasn’t gonna argue,” Finn says. “Probably no way to explain why I smell like, uh. You.”

Kurt and Puck both grin, and Puck props himself up on his elbows. “I should go last. Since my hair doesn’t need to look less drenched.”

“I never had a shower today at all, so it doesn’t matter if I look drenched,” Finn says. 

“Dad might find it odd for me to not take two showers a day, but I can guarantee the rest of PFLAG would find it odd if I did look like a sodden animal.” Kurt shrugs. “So I suppose that means I will go first.”

“I’ll go on and see if there’s wings. Those need to cook longer,” Finn says. “Then I’ll come back up and be less smelly. Nobody’s likely to come into the kitchen and smell me before then.”

“I’d hope not,” Puck agrees. “The thought of Burt sniffing you is pretty disturbing, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s probably not appropriate or however he’d put it,” Finn says. “No sniffing.”

“Now I’m very disturbed,” Kurt announces, pulling on his jeans and picking up his shirt before walking to the door. He unlocks it, peeks out, and then walks across the hall, shutting the door again behind him. 

“Go.” Puck prods Finn with his toe. “I want wings.”

“Then hopefully that’s what we got, dude, or you’re SOL,” Finn says, as he walks out of his room. Puck drops back down, head on Finn’s pillow, and rolls to one side. He can wait to get up a few more minutes, and anyway, Finn’s not wrong; the bed smells like all three of them now, though a little more strongly of Finn. He hates to think about how Finn looked when they got back, how talking with Carole made him look, but he still doesn’t know what the alternative would have been. Finn not talking to her would have meant someone interrupting them, being told not to lock the doors, and even less time than they’re currently grabbing. It’s not enough, but it’s better than nothing. 

 

Puck decides as he’s getting dressed that they need a sign telling people to just come in, because it’s a little ridiculous how they keep getting up to open the door. He grabs a piece of notebook paper and a marker and writes ‘Come In’ on it before heading down the stairs and taping it to the front door. Just in time, too, because he thinks he sees a couple of people parking. 

“Did we have wings?” 

“Wings _and_ bagel bites,” Finn says. “I should lie more often, I guess.”

“Are you going to eat the bagel bites while they’re still too hot?” Puck asks. 

Finn shrugs. “Not sure I’m eating them at all.”

And therein lies the problem with a sign, Puck realizes; there’s no warning about when people might walk in, so the three of them just stand there staring at each other. There’s the creak of the front door after about fifteen seconds, so it’s probably good that they didn’t do anything else. When he hears the footsteps in the front hall, Puck turns to the refrigerator, pulling out pop, and Kurt rips open a bag of chips, dumping it in the huge chip bowl. 

“I smell food! Is there food?” Brittany calls from the hall. 

“Lots of food!” Kurt replies. 

“Did you make anything vegan for Berry?” Santana asks. 

“No!” Puck, Finn, and Kurt all chorus. 

“That’s too bad,” Quinn says. “I guess she can eat chips.”

“Oops, these chips have dairy solids,” Kurt says, not sounding sorry at all. He’s also not even looking at the bag, just crumpling it up and tossing it in the trash. “It’s so sad. Maybe she can dig out some of Carole’s tofu. They can bond over it.”

“I think there’s still some of those veggie patties in the back of the freezer,” Finn says. “They’re probably pretty freezer–burnt by now, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

“I’m just glad no one else is vegan.” Puck shrugs. “Otherwise she’d have allies or something. And, dude, those are from like, November.” He laughs. “No, wait.” He stops. That was before Rachel knew, so… “No, October.”

“Well, they’re frozen. I’m sure they’re not full of, I dunno. Bacteria.” Finn frowns. “Maybe.”

“You’re forgetting we finished Nationals,” Santana says, sounding bored. “It’s okay if they have bacteria, now.”

Puck shrugs. “Good point.” The door opens again, and more footsteps come into the house. 

“Anybody here?” calls a voice from the living room.

Finn and Puck exchange a look and both say, “Brown.”

“I’ll go help them find a place to sit,” Finn offers. “I’ll save spots for us, too.” He goes into the living room and Puck can hear him talking to the Browns and Rick.

Puck goes back to pulling things out of the refrigerator, passing the two kinds of dip, two kinds of salsa, and jar of guacamole all to Kurt. “What the…?” He shakes his head. “She even got hummus, too.”

“Four kinds of chips.” Kurt sighs.

“Mama Hudson feeling nesty? Or nostalgic?” Santana snorts. She grabs some of the food, though, handing some to Brittany as well, and carries it into the living room. Quinn picks up another bowl and follows. 

By the time Puck gets the wings out and in a bowl, and eats two, and Kurt has the bagel bites on a platter, the rest of the glee club is there, plus all the maybe–baby–dykes, Karofsky and Casey, and Taylor with some of the guys that Puck remembers seeing in the hallway around his locker. Finn points to an empty spot on the sofa, then sits down on the floor in front of it. 

Puck sits down at the end of the sofa, Kurt next to him, and everyone starts passing around the food. 

“So what are we watching? More boys?” Santana scoffs. 

“One set of boys, one of girls,” Kurt answers her mildly. “One independent,” he nods a little at Artie, “and one British.”

“What’s the girl one?” Santana challenges. 

“ _Imagine You and Me_ ,” Kurt says. “The British one. It has Lena Headey in it.” 

“From the _Sarah Connor Chronicles_? She’s hot,” Artie says. 

Kurt shrugs. “I have no idea. That one first?”

There’s a general murmur of agreement, and no one disagrees, so they put it in first. It has the guy that played Giles on Buffy in it, too, and it really is just a nice drama–free rom com that happens to have two girls as the main couple. Part-way into the movie, Finn slides forward on the floor enough to rest his head on Puck’s knee. After a few minutes, Puck’s hand finds its way into Finn’s hair, and Kurt does the same, their fingers moving gently. 

When the credits start at the end of the movie, Santana looks over at Kurt. “So who suggested that one? It was pretty good.”

“Actually, when I went to get _Shelter_ , I had a few possibilities, but one of the people working there recommended this one instead.” Kurt shrugs. “I think it was a good suggestion, though.”

“Maybe next year we can watch more movies like that,” that Brooklyn girl says. “Less _drama_ and, well… violence.”

“The people in Dayton had a lot of suggestions, actually,” Kurt answers, nodding. “Just didn’t have time to compile a list or anything.” He smirks a little. “So whoever takes over might want to do that.”

“I like that Coop guy,” Brown says. 

“You would,” Casey says. He turns his face against Karofsky’s shoulder and giggles. Brown scowls at Casey, but not in a way that’s particularly believable. Either way, there’s no punching. 

“Damn right, I would,” Brown grumbles. 

Finn doesn’t comment on the movie, his head still leaning against Puck’s knee, and no one else seems to have any particular comments on the movie, so they start the second one, _Shelter_. This one isn’t a comedy, though it is still a romance between an artist guy and his best friend’s older brother. There’s also a kid, the artist’s nephew, and the whole thing is sweet and, again, drama–free. 

“Oh, that was so good!” Tina exclaims at the end of it. 

“That _was_ so good!” Casey agrees. 

“This movie night has gone surprisingly well,” Santana says with a smirk. 

“Unless you were the food,” Puck retorts, gesturing at the mostly–empty bowls. 

“All the wings are gone,” Finn sighs, his head still resting on Puck’s knee. “I’m not sure I can even get up from here. I’m just staying here and being sad.”

Puck looks at his phone and then leans forward. “We could always order more wings after all these people leave,” he whispers. 

“Ok, everybody!” Finn says, hopping up from the floor. “Time to leave my house! Go! Begone! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Don’t get speeding tickets on the way home! Now, leave!”

“Are we really not allowed to do things Finn wouldn’t do?” Brittany asks Santana. “Is that the rule?”

Santana shakes her head. “Only until we leave his house.” She drops her voice but Puck can still hear what she says next. “Wonder what he’s got planned?”

“Does that mean _we_ can do that? We should ask him!” Brittany says. 

Santana looks a little surprised, like she’s not quite sure what Brittany means, and Puck puts his hand over his mouth to hide his smirk. “We’ll just go,” Santana says after a minute. Brittany shrugs and nods. 

Everybody slowly filters out of the house, and when they’ve closed the door behind the last person—Rachel, who wants to discuss the “audition process” and who they have to forcibly eject after three minutes of trying politely—Finn says, “I was promised more wings.”

Puck laughs and pulls his phone back out, calling and ordering more wings. “Twenty-five minutes,” he announces after he ends the call. 

“They’ll be better than the frozen ones, anyway,” Finn says. “Plus, always way more sauce.”

“Also we don’t have to share them,” Kurt points out brightly. 

“Everything is better without all those other people here,” Finn says. “Without _any_ other people.”

“Did Burt or Carole say anything about cleaning up?” Puck asks, wrinkling his nose at the living room.

“I didn’t talk to Burt, really, but _she_ didn’t say anything to me about it,” Finn says. 

“Hmm.” Kurt purses his lips. “Well, if we take wings and pop upstairs, and we forget to come back down, it’s hardly our fault.” He sighs. “Not to mention, you’d think someone would have at least offered to collect the trash.”

“I think they fled quickly to avoid my wrath,” Finn muses. “It was kinda nice.”

Kurt laughs. “Your wrath, hmm? Maybe so.”

“What? I’m scary. Look how they fled!”

“I’m sorry, darling, I just don’t see it.” Kurt shrugs. 

Finn frowns. “I _am_ scary,” he grumbles.

“Well, maybe you’re very scary to _them_?”

“I’m a giant,” Finn says. “Look at me! People should be scared of me! I could, I dunno. Probably do something really terrible if I wanted to.”

“Then why don’t you do something terrible to me,” Kurt suggests, arching one eyebrow and smirking a bit. 

“Can you bring the wings up when they get here?” Finn asks, turning to Puck. “Oh, hey, and maybe some of Burt’s beer? I really need to go do something terrible to Kurt now so he’ll learn to fear me.”

Puck laughs. “Sure.”

“Awesome!” Finn leans over and plants a quick kiss on Puck’s mouth, then without any warning, grabs Kurt around the upper thighs and flings him up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. 

“Finn!” Kurt protests, but it’s sort of half-hearted. 

“You _told_ me to be terrible!” Finn insists. “If you’re loud and we get busted, that’s the wrong kind of terrible, so stop making noise now, ok?”

“Okay, okay,” Kurt grumbles. “Do your worst.” 

Finn turns his head and shoots a grin over his other shoulder at Puck before walking up the stairs, Kurt still slung over his shoulder. 

 

The weird thing about Sunday is _not_ having rehearsal in the evening, because they haven’t missed a rehearsal, except for a couple around winter break, since October or whatever. Monday morning starts out normally enough, but as they’re sitting down in history, Mrs. Vey smiles at the four of them and walks towards their corner of the classroom.

“You might be interested to know that Principal Figgins wrote all of the faculty and staff about the new policies, which are effective immediately.” 

Puck grins. “Awesome.”

“That is so cool!” Finn says. “What’d he say?”

“Most of it is the text of the new policy and that it will be enforced vigorously, but he did mention that we should all be alert for the final weeks of this year for any attempted retaliation,” Mrs. Vey answers. 

“Yeah, I should really try to not get suspended again,” Finn says, under his breath. “Will if I gotta, though.” 

Puck snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think you want to try that.”

Finn just shakes his head slowly, then a small smile flickers across his face. “Though…”

“Uh-oh.” Puck shakes his head. “Dude.”

“What? Worked out pretty good for me last time, is all!”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, yeah.” It’s a good thing there’s not a lot of time left in the school year, or Finn might actually _start_ some rumors. When they’re walking out of history, he leans over and whispers to Finn, “Hey, I heard a rumor there’s no adults at your house for about ninety minutes this afternoon, and that you get into all sorts of… _shenanigans_.”

Finn grins. “That’s not a rumor, dude. That’s the god’s honest truth.”

“Good to know.” Puck returns the grin and bumps his shoulder against Finn’s before turning towards physics. 

He slides onto his stool in the back next to Kurt’s and Kurt grins a little. “Five more days of this class.”

“Mmmhmm.” Puck smirks. “Oh, so. Mrs. Vey said Figgins sent around a memo about enforcing the new policy.” He drops his shoe off his foot and runs his toes around Kurt’s ankle. “Even mentioned being extra-vigilant for the last two weeks in case of retaliation.”

“Really?” Kurt looks grudgingly impressed. “I wouldn’t have expected that,” he admits. He toes off his own shoe, then reaches between them and rests his hand on Puck’s thigh. “Then again, I did sort of throw down a gauntlet on purpose the other night.” He smirks and tilts his head towards the front of the room. “Think she’d notice if we just left?”

“Just left? Yes. Sat back here and didn’t pay attention? I don’t think she’d care.”

“Oh good.” Kurt’s smirk gets a little wider and his hand moves up on Puck’s thigh. “I didn’t really want to learn about relativity.”

Kurt decides on Puck’s behalf that Puck should actually attend a few more English classes, so they walk together towards Puck’s English class, and Puck knows they’re definitely walking a little too close together, but at that precise moment, he doesn’t really care. 

English is as boring as Puck expects, so he starts writing down a couple of songs instead, which earns him an exasperated sigh and a roll of the eyes from Rachel. When he finishes, he chews on his bottom lip for a minute, trying to think of the right way to label them both, and then scratches out ‘F.M.B. #1’ and ‘F.M.B. #2’ before closing the notebook and heading towards glee. 

The choir room is more chaotic than Puck would have expected, given that they’re finished competing for the year. Schue is holding up a clipboard, and Tina and Rachel are conferring over a second clipboard, all three of them brandishing pens at each new person to enter the room. 

Puck figures out pretty quickly that Schue needs their Senior Showcase shit, but also that they can sign his list through the end of the day on Tuesday, so he waves off Schue’s pen and tries to find a seat. Rachel corners him first, though. 

“Noah, we’re trying to establish the best choices for performances during our open rehearsal,” Rachel says, her eyes looking a little crazy. “Mr. Schue has informed us that he has a group number he’d like us to rehearse as well, but we still need four performers on Thursday afternoon! Would you prefer to perform on Thursday or during one of our class periods this week?”

Puck frowns. He wasn’t technically ready to perform that day, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to perform in an open rehearsal. “Friday,” he answers her after a moment. 

“Thank you!” She scribbles something down and moves on. 

After a few more minutes of chaos, the room slowly calms down. “Okay, guys!” Schue smiles at all of them. “Let’s hear your contenders for end of the year songs. Who’s up first?”

“I’ll go,” Santana volunteers, and she looks over at Puck for a moment. “Bat–guitar?”

Puck shakes his head slightly but grabs his guitar and steps to the front of the room. “What am I bat–guitaring?”

“‘Closer to Fine’. Indigo Girls. I know, it’s lesbians,” she says quietly, smirking, and Puck just laughs. 

“Got it.”

_I'm trying to tell you something about my life  
Maybe give me insight between black and white  
The best thing you've ever done for me  
Is to help me take my life less seriously, it's only life after all_

Santana exchanges a long glance with Brittany, and another shorter one with Quinn as she keeps singing. 

_I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains  
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain  
There's more than one answer to these questions  
pointing me in crooked line  
The less I seek my source for some definitive  
The closer I am to fine._

“Beautiful, Santana,” Schue says quietly as she finishes, and she nods once as she takes her seat. Puck starts to sit down himself, but Artie gestures in his direction, and Puck just shakes his head ruefully, wondering what song Artie’s picked. 

“I’m singing ‘Fire and Rain’ by James Taylor. It’s one of my parents’ favorites and they’ve been playing it all the time lately, while my mother’s been crying about me graduating, so we’ll just call this a musical exorcism.”

_Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone.  
Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you.  
I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song,  
I just can't remember who to send it to.  
I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.  
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again._

“Oh, wow, I wouldn’t have thought of that one, but good choice, Artie,” Schue says with a nod, looking particularly thoughtful. Puck doesn’t even bother trying to sit down this time, just looks around expectantly until Kurt smirks at him and stands up. 

“I’m doing a song by an artist that, honestly, I’m not sure how I have the song, but I suspect the free music at Starbucks. So this is ‘Fly One Time’ by Ben Harper.”

Kurt starts to sing and Puck plays along. He at least knew ahead of time what Kurt was going to sing and had a chance to look up the tab for it. 

_Standing  
At the edge of your life  
At the edge of our lives  
Don't hold on, there's no fighting back the years  
It's so hard to unlearn fears_

_Now that you're caught between  
What you can't leave behind  
And all that you may never find  
So fly, just fly  
Just fly one time_

Schue almost looks pained, like he’s having to think harder than he planned. Puck guesses he thought they’d all do songs off one of those ‘top graduation songs’ lists, which is what Kurt almost did, in fact, so the choices so far are probably confounding him. “Also a good choice. Wow, guys, you’re really digging deep for this.” He looks up at the clock. “All right, one more performance today?”

Finn stands up. “Sorry, Puck,” he says. “One more bat–guitar?”

“I should’ve put my case out,” Puck jokes. “Get some extra cash for lunch.”

“I’ll buy your lunch to make up for it,” Finn says. “So, I’m singing ‘Wheel’ by John Mayer.”

_People have the right to fly  
And will when it gets compromised  
Their hearts say "Move along"  
Their minds say "Gotcha heart"  
Let's move it along  
Let's move it along_

Finn’s smiling his crooked smile while he sings, not really looking directly at anybody, but occasionally cutting his eyes in Puck or Kurt’s direction. 

_You can find me, if you ever want again  
I'll be around the bend  
I'll be around the bend  
I'll be around,  
I'll be around  
And if you never stop when you wave goodbye  
You just might find if you give it time  
You will wave hello again  
You just might wave hello again_

When Finn gets to the last few repeats of the last line, he ducks his head a little and sings softly.

_I believe that my life's gonna see  
The love I give  
Return to me_

“Great job, Finn. These songs are all great, guys,” Schue says as Finn sits down and Puck finally takes off his guitar. “Don’t forget to sign up with your Senior Showcase information, and, uh.”

“And don’t forget about auditions tomorrow afternoon, in the auditorium!” Rachel pipes up. “We already have several people signed up though of course anyone is welcome to come without signing up! It’s so exciting.”

“Right! Yes! Auditions. Okay, everyone, see you tomorrow!”

The rest of the day drags once they finish lunch at Joey’s, which Finn does buy. A run, dual enrollment, and then Kurt goes to work while Puck rattles around his mom and Hannah’s apartment for a few hours. Hannah’s all excited to see him and Kurt, and makes them promise to wait until she gets back from dance class, because she has something _very important_ to talk to them about. 

And when she gets home, she drags both of them into her bedroom and sits them on her bed. “My birthday’s in less than two weeks, Noah! I want to have my party on the Saturday before you graduate. And it has be so cool, because this is my last single-digit birthday party.”

“No, you aren’t allowed to become ten, ever,” Puck says firmly. “You can turn nine, but that’s it.”

“Very funny, Noah.” Hannah rolls her eyes, and Kurt stifles a laugh. 

“You two look exactly alike when you do that,” Kurt points out. 

Hannah makes a face. “Ugh.”

“Birthday party?” Puck reminds her. 

“Can we do a pool party? I know you said two years ago that it was too cold still but it’s been so hot this spring and all the pools are opening this weekend and it should be warm enough! Please, Noah?”

“That is less to decorate,” Puck concedes. “What about favors?”

“I have an idea for that,” Kurt says. “Leave that to me.”

“And maybe just snack food? Since everyone will be swimming?” Puck guesses.

Hannah nods vigorously. “See? This will be awesome!” She goes over to her backpack and pulls out two pieces of paper, where she’s carefully printed out the names and addresses of her class from a computer. “Here’s everyone’s addresses. I thought about getting email so you could use evite or something, but then I realized you might not want all those parents knowing your email.” She bites at her lip and sits down between Puck and Kurt, handing Puck the paper. “Noah? What about next year?”

Puck can feel his heart sink. Of course she’s smart enough to have figured it out. “I’ve already talked to Carole about your birthday,” he says softly. “Depending on when we’re working and what our classes are like, we might be able to come visit around your birthday, okay? But even if we can’t, we’ll visit sometime, and Mom already said you can visit us, remember?”

“I remember,” Hannah nods. “Really? Aunt Carole’s going to help?”

“Yeah, she is. And maybe you can go over there sometimes after school, after she has the baby, okay?”

“Oooh, cool!” Hannah grins. “That’s awesome.” She gives Noah a quick hug, then throws her arms around Kurt as well. “Now, get out of my room!”

Puck laughs. “I can tell where we aren’t wanted!” He grabs Kurt’s hand and they leave her room, still laughing. 

 

After Waffle House on Tuesday morning, Puck decides to take the long route to history, just to see if anything really is different. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but there’s no locker-checks, no slurs, and no vandalism, and he actually spots several teachers in the hall or in the doorways to their classrooms. He doesn’t know what exactly was in the memo Figgins sent around, but he’s pretty sure he likes the results. 

Puck reluctantly goes to English, but then he and Kurt and Finn make some ridiculous excuse up and go sit in the back of the Nav during fourth period. When they head towards PFLAG, the room already sounds loud. It’s the last official meeting of the year and Harvey Milk Day both, and Kurt had mentioned using their small budget from the school to get food for the last meeting. From the sound of things, the food’s already there. 

“I didn’t even bother trying to come up with any kind of official topic,” Kurt admits. “A couple of people asked about doing something unofficial on the last day of finals, though, so I suppose we can discuss that. And probably the rest of them should talk about things they want to do next year.”

“Yeah, do you think they’ll be able to keep it together next year?” Finn asks. 

Kurt shrugs. “There’s enough attendees. I have a few ideas about who should take over, too, but of course I can’t control that. I’ll be _mad_ if they don’t, though.”

“Yeah, me too,” Puck agrees. “Yeah, there’s a lot of seniors, but that still leaves twenty-five people or so. They should be able to.”

“As long as they don’t think that, you know, because we got the policy changed they don’t need it,” Finn says. 

“If they think that, then they’re fools, and they can have fun with that,” Kurt says, shaking his head, and they walk into an already half-full room. The rest of the glee club is already there, plus Karofsky, Casey, and the assortment of maybe–baby–dykes. 

“Where were you guys?” Artie asks. “We thought you weren’t coming.”

Puck’s first thought is that oh, they were coming all right, but that probably isn’t the kind of thing to say out loud. 

“Had to run an errand,” Kurt replies with a slight shrug. “And here we are.”

“You didn’t eat all the food, did you?” Puck asks, grinning. 

“There is very little here for me to eat,” Rachel complains, and it would probably be nice of them to care, but Puck doesn’t, especially since it’s not a medical thing, it’s just her choice. 

“There’s some vegetables,” Kurt points out. “And hummus.”

“That’s true,” Rachel concedes, and she moves to the side of the room, taking a seat with a little flounce. 

“‘You’ve got to give them hope’?” Sam reads off Kurt’s shirt. 

“It’s Harvey Milk Day. Granted, we don’t live in California, which is the only place it’s officially any sort of holiday, but nevertheless.”

“Oh, right.” Sam nods. 

More and more people come in, until it’s basically every person that set foot in even one meeting throughout the year, and they keep having to squeeze more and more chairs into the circle. Eventually, they more or less give up on the circle, with chairs pulled up along the outside of about half of it. 

“Welcome to the last official meeting of the 2012 school year,” Kurt says when the room slowly quiets. “Today is also Harvey Milk Day. And, of course, we’re celebrating our victory last week. So.” He pauses. “Introductions, then. If you would, though, please save the teary ones for our unofficial gathering next week after the last final.”

There’s some laughter scattered around the room, and Brown says, “They’re talking to you, Cherry,” to Casey, who lets out an indignant squawk. 

“No way!” Finn calls out. “He means me. I’m a weeper. Barely keeping it together, man.”

“Hudson, the rest of us assumed he _was_ talking about you,” Lauren calls back. 

“No, I was most concerned about David. Or possibly Rickenbacker.”

Karofsky just nods and smiles a little, and Rick says, “But I’m not on those pills anymore!”

There’s even more laughter, and when it quiets, Kurt manages to actually introduce himself. “I’m Kurt, I’m a senior, and I am still gay.” 

Puck snorts a little. “Yeah, I’m Puck.”

It takes awhile to go around the entire circle, and Puck tunes most of the introductions out.   
There’s a lot of looking around because of the chairs mobbed behind the circle, plus the circle is huge, so Puck feels justified in not really paying attention. 

When it’s Casey’s turn, he announces, “I’m Casey, I’m a sophomore, and I decided not to be gay this week. Too much pressure.”

– Everyone laughs, and Brown swats the back of Casey’s head, which just makes Casey laugh harder. No one else tries to be as amusing, and then finally they get back around to Finn, who says, “I’m Finn, and that’s Latin for ‘the end of the movie’.”

“Yeah, dude, they had some real blockbusters back in Ancient Rome,” Puck snorts. 

“Duh, asshole. _Spartacus_.”

Kurt shakes his head, looking very amused. “Ancient Roman cinema aside, as I said, today is Harvey Milk Day, and I suppose those of you who are staying here might like to discuss what you’d like to do next year.” He purses his lips. “I have a few of you I’d like to talk to individually afterwards. Regardless, those of us that are leaving might have ideas for you as well; things we wish that had been accomplished. So.” He gestures towards the assembled people. “Thoughts?”

“We should keep doing movie nights,” Brown says. “Maybe once a month, if we can get enough people to let us use their houses.”

Kurt smirks a little. “I could ask Dad if you could still use our house a time or two. They might get lonely without visitors periodically. I know they won’t believe their grocery bill.”

“I liked that idea about a library,” Taylor says. “Maybe we could keep it in one of the teachers’ offices?” He looks back at where Coach Beiste, Mr. Schue, and Ms. Pillsbury are all sitting. 

“I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t keep it in my office,” Beiste volunteers. “I keep it locked when I’m not in there, too, so if you did that ereader thing, they’d be safe.”

“Cool!” Brooklyn says. 

“What about bookkeeping stuff?” Casey asks. “Are we set up for donations? I mean, can businesses get, um. Deductions? If they give us stuff!”

“We haven’t really had that problem so far,” Kurt says. “But I’m sure there are the appropriate forms through the school office.” He pauses. “I try to avoid math as much as possible.”

“Time to phone a friend,” Finn says, under his breath. 

“Maybe keep a suggestion box all year round?” Mike says. “For meeting topics and stuff, not just for an answering–questions meeting.” He shrugs. 

One of the guys that came in with Taylor nods. “Yeah, that’d be kinda cool,” he says. 

“Advertising,” Artie says. “Not just that you’re having meetings, but that they’re for straight people _and_ all the ‘soups’. I don’t think everybody realizes that. Getting more allies at meetings would also help with keeping people from assuming _why_ someone’s attending the meetings.”

“Maybe weekly meetings, too?” Mandy suggests. “I think there’s plenty to talk about. Maybe some of the meetings could still be formal meeting topics, and others could be more informal discussion?”

Kurt nods. “All good ideas.” 

“So what is this informal gathering thing?” Brown asks. 

“A few people mentioned a desire to do something after the last day of school, so on Friday the first, after the final exam for first period, anyone who would like to can meet out in the courtyard. I know that several seniors have family coming into town and can’t make it, but we’ll just be hanging out and probably talking a little about the end of the year. The teary part, as I mentioned.”

And Kurt doesn’t say it, but it’s a little bit for Puck, and for anyone else like him; anyone who wanted to get through the school year, or maybe one of the underclassmen who feels like coming out when there’s not going to be school for a couple of months and there is a new policy in place. 

The rest of the meeting passes with a few more ideas, a little bit of discussion of Harvey Milk, and a lot of excited chatter about not only the change in policy but how quickly Figgins sent out a memo about enforcing it. Puck’s observation of less in the halls wasn’t an anomaly, apparently, and yeah, it would have been better for all of the seniors if the policy had been in place before, but at least they’re leaving with it there for everyone else. 

Kurt ends the official meeting a good five or ten minutes before the bell will ring, and almost everyone stays in the room, talking to people and getting more food. Kurt looks almost predatory, watching some of the underclassmen, and Puck exchanges a smirk with him. “Waiting?”

“Mmmhmm.” Kurt grins. “Hopefully they won’t know what hit them.”

Puck laughs. “No, probably not.”

Taylor crosses the room, probably thinking of getting more food, and Kurt beckons to him. Taylor changes directions and stops in front of Kurt, then sits down in Finn’s vacated seat. “Uh-oh.”

“See? I was right. He even knows to be worried,” Kurt says to Puck, who bites down on his lower lip and nods. 

“And now I’m even more worried,” Taylor says wryly. 

“Do you want me to beat around the bush or just say it?” Kurt asks. 

“Just say it,” Taylor says with a grin. 

“Okay.” Kurt shrugs. “I want you take over next year.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Even though I’m a sophomore?” Taylor says skeptically. 

“There are advantages to that, you know,” Kurt points out. “You don’t need to be concerned about finding your own replacement quite yet, and you can implement plans that might take longer than a school year to come to fruition.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but.” Taylor sighs. “It’s just… I don’t know, it’s a lot. Mandy’s right, we should try to meet weekly, and look how many people are already coming to meetings! I have other activities, too, and I. I really don’t know,” he finishes. 

“Hmm.” Kurt does his head–tilting thing. “Would you consider it if you weren’t the only one running the group?”

“Maybe?” Taylor shrugs. “I mean, I like the idea, and by junior or senior year, yeah, maybe, I just don’t know about _next_ year.”

Finn walks back over from where he’s been talking to Karofsky. “Hey, guys. You spring it on Taylor?”

“Like a snake in a can,” Puck nods. 

“And that’s why you never open the peanut brittle, dude,” Finn says to Taylor. “It’s never peanut brittle. It’s always snakes.”

Puck has to give Taylor some credit, because he just nods like, oh, yeah, that makes perfect sense. “I just thought it was never let Kurt Hummel corner you.”

“Oh, it’s that too,” Puck says, smirking at Kurt, who just rolls his eyes. 

“He’s unsure about the workload, given other activities and being a sophomore,” Kurt says to Finn. 

“Oh yeah? Actually, that’s, uh,” Finn looks over his shoulder at Karofsky. “That’s what I was coming over here to ask you about.”

“Oh?” Kurt raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Me and Karofsky were talking, and he thought maybe, I dunno. Casey might want to help out next year,” Finn says. “Apparently he’s super organized, lists and all of that? Karofsky thinks it might be good for him, having that.”

Kurt tilts his head again, then looks at Taylor. “Taylor? What do you think? If you had Casey working alongside you and, apparently, doing most of the organization?” 

Taylor shrugs. “Yeah, that could work. I mean, I have no idea what he was talking about, forms and donations and stuff.” He grins a little. “Ask Tina. When I showed up to work with her and Brittany on the school board stuff, they had notes and binders and I was all, uh, I might have a pencil in my pocket.”

“You want me to grab him for you?” Finn asks. “I think he was trying to hide from the food.”

Kurt nods, obviously trying not to laugh. “It’s a little hard to hide from today.”

“Guess he’s trying, though. I think it’s more about dodging Karofsky when he has a plate than anything else,” Finn says, grinning at Kurt. “I’ll be right back.” Finn turns and walks over to Casey, who is sitting with Brown and Rick and might actually be hiding from Karofsky, who has a plate with a lot of food on it and is talking to Sam. Finn leans over to talk to Casey, who looks surprised by whatever Finn says and looks over in Kurt’s direction. After a moment, Finn steers Casey over to Kurt, his hands on Casey’s shoulders.

“Here’s a Casey,” Finn says. “I’m getting more of that bread stuff.”

“Get me some chips?” Puck asks. 

“Sure, you want a pop, too?” 

Puck nods and then inclines his head towards Kurt, who’s already turned his attention to Casey and Taylor. Finn walks over to the snack table and starts piling various foods onto a plate. 

“…and since Taylor has concerns about the time commitment and the parts of the job that you seemed interested in,” Kurt’s saying to Casey when Puck starts listening again. “What do either of you think?”

Casey nods his head rapidly, bouncing in place a little. “I don’t think the time commitment is a problem. I have work, but that’s really all I do after school right now, so if there’s any planning stuff, I have, well, I have a lot of free time,” he says. “And I like organizing things. I think it makes things run more smoothly, if you know where everything is and all of that kind of thing.”

“And Casey can drive,” Taylor says ruefully. “Which might also be helpful. My birthday was just a month ago, so it’ll be awhile before I can. But yeah, that might work.” 

“Yes! I can drive! Oh, and I could pick Taylor up for things, so that would work out really great!”

“Excellent.” Overall, Kurt looks pretty pleased with himself. “I’ll send you both an email by next Tuesday.” 

“That’s great! I’m going to tell David!” Casey bounds off in Karofsky’s direction, narrowly avoiding ramming straight into Finn, who has an overloaded plate and three cans of pop in his arms. 

“Here,” Finn says, gesturing with his arm for Puck to take the cans. Puck takes them and opens them, passing one to Kurt and then one back to Finn. “Thanks. And here, bossofme, eat something.” Finn brandishes the plate at Kurt, who grabs something that looks like part of a wrap, along with a handful of grapes. “Try some of the bread stuff. It’s good. It has some kind of cream cheese in it.”

The plate does have a disproportionately large amount of the bread stuff, so both Kurt and Puck take some of it. Puck takes a bite and shrugs. “Yeah, that is pretty good.”

“I’m finding out who made it and getting a recipe,” Finn says. “Not because I think I can make it, but maybe Hannah.”

“Little sisters should definitely be put to work,” Puck agrees. “You two’d better get on that. Figure out a job for Pretzel.” 

Kurt laughs. “What can a newborn do? Maybe we’ll give her the first twelve months off.”

“You’re too soft,” Puck warns. “Way too soft.”

 

The twelve of them filter into the auditorium after the final bell, and Schue hurries in too, the thirteen of them sitting in the back of the first section. 

“How many people signed up?” Sam asks. 

“Fifteen so far,” Tina answers. “But people can walk in, too, and of course not all of them are coming on any one day.”

Schue looks mildly shocked, and Puck has to concede he’s a little surprised too. “Well!” Schue says. “I guess we should get started.” He projects towards the wings. “Would the first person auditioning please begin?”

Alicia steps out onto the stage, and there’s a loud whoop and some clapping from the back corner of the auditorium, where Brown and Rick are apparently sitting. “I’m Alicia Brown,” she says with a smile, still wearing the damn ubiquitous Cheerios uniform, “and I’ll be singing Adele’s ‘Set Fire to the Rain’.” 

The jazz band starts to play, and Alicia does a good job with the song, smiling at all of them again when she finishes before exiting back into the wings. Puck nudges Finn. “Are we supposed to take notes or something?”

“Notes are Tina’s job,” Finn says. “My job is to sit here and act all authora… tative? Tarian? Which one is the one that’s good?”

“Tative,” Kurt answers from Finn’s other side. “I know what my job is, then.”

“Being the pretty one, right?” Finn says. 

“Specifically, sitting here and looking pretty,” Kurt nods. 

“You nailed it,” Finn says, nodding. “Good job.”

“Why thank you.”

“Next!” Schue calls. 

One of the guys that hangs out with Taylor comes out next, introduces himself, and covers ‘Carry On My Wayward Son’ pretty well. When he finishes, Mandy comes out on stage. 

“I don’t know that I’m much of a singer,” Mandy admits, “but I’ve been taking dance classes since I was four, and I help teach some of the preschool classes at my dance school, too.” Down the row, Mike’s nodding, so maybe Mandy dances at the same place he does. Mandy does a dance to a song that Puck can’t quite place, but Mike and Brittany both seem to think that she does really well, and Mandy smiles up at all of them before hurrying back off the stage. 

The next kid that comes on stage seems sort of nervous, shooting their section of the auditorium a grimace. “Oh, hey!” Finn says. “It’s Roger the AV phone thief!” He laughs. “He sort of looks like he’s going to pee his pants again.”

“It’s because of how terrible you are,” Kurt says, smirking. 

“That does explain why he keeps looking up here so nervously.” Puck chuckles. “He’s probably afraid you’ll run him off the stage.” 

“Break a leg, Rog!” Finn shouts towards the stage, giving Roger two thumbs up and a huge grin. Roger visibly pales, but then his music starts and Puck can feel his jaw drop when Roger starts to sing. 

He looks at the rest of them, and sure enough, twelve other completely shocked faces. No one that has auditioned has been bad, but Roger is _good_. His choice of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” from _Oklahoma!_ might not be the most inspired, but he sings it in a clear, perfect tenor that resonates across the auditorium. Rachel looks like she might start crying. 

“Holy shit, Roger!” Finn whispers. 

“Where has _he_ been?” Kurt demands. 

“Hiding in AV, apparently,” Finn says. “Told you I was terrifying.”

“Tell him he’s required to join,” Puck suggests. “Perfect attendance.”

“I’m sure Tina put him on the list, but if she doesn’t, I’ll go find him myself and let him know he’s in,” Finn says. 

After Roger finishes, and they give him a standing ovation, there’s a few more people auditioning, though Puck doesn’t really recognize any of them and none of them particularly stand out. One guy does play his own music, sitting down at the piano and giving Brad a one–song break, at least. When the last of the day’s auditioners finishes, everyone looks down the row or behind their row at Tina. 

“What?” she says, grinning. 

“You did put down that tenor, didn’t you?” Rachel asks anxiously, and Tina nods. 

“And Mandy,” Mike says. “Britt and I will talk to her about choreography, too.” 

“They were all pretty good,” Finn says. “The real question is, how many of them are we letting in?”

“We’ve heard Taylor and Alicia before,” Puck points out. “At Casey’s party. They were both good then, too.”

“You’re going to need someone who knows music,” Kurt says to Schue, then looks over at Tina. “The piano player, tentatively.”

“I liked that first guy after Alicia,” Finn says. “Bet Mr. Schue liked him, too,” he adds, grinning at Schue. 

“Hey, that was a classic!” Schue says with a laugh. “Wasn’t his name Tucker or something? I need someone to help defend classic rock!”

“Just cut ’em some slack with the Journey, Mr. Schue,” Finn says. “We’re going to be a hard enough act to follow, and if they think they’re gonna have to master Journey like we did, you might lose the whole club before the year even starts!”

Everyone laughs, even Schue, and when it gets quiet again, Tina speaks up. “So, we can make our final decisions on Friday, after we’ve seen everyone?”

“Yeah, I think that sounds good. We need at least twelve but more’s better. Wonder if we’ll get anybody interesting tomorrow?” Finn asks. 

“Maybe we’ll find another Roger hidden in the school,” Kurt says wryly. “Stranger things have happened. Look at Roger himself.”

“Rather listen to him than look at him, honestly,” Finn says. “But hey, he’s got a great voice, so I bet the audience could even hear him from the back of the group.” He lowers his voice just enough for Puck to hear, and adds, “But everybody better keep an eye on their stuff. Kid’s got no concept of personal belongings.”

 

Wednesday is one of those days where Finn blinks and three or four hours have passed without him actually being aware of it, which is pretty awesome, since it means he changed classes and everything without noticing. He and Puck and Kurt eat lunch at Joey’s and then makeout in the Nav until they have to drop Finn off at school and go to their dual enrollment. 

Spanish class is more of the same bullshit it’s been since he got back from New York, trying to pretend Furman and Pitner aren’t in the back of the room mumbling shit about him and Kurt. At one point, about halfway through class, Finn raises his hand and asks, “Hey Mr. Schue, can you remind me what happens if you’re caught violating the new bullying policy?”

Schue nods very slowly. “If I were to overhear or witness bullying, I’d have to make a report first, of course, but generally detention would be the punishment – for a first offense.”

“Man, it sure would suck to go to detention the last real week of school, huh?” Finn asks. “I hope nobody does anything stupid this week!”

After that, Pitner and Furman shut the hell up, and it doesn’t help Finn understand Spanish any better, but at least it makes it easier to doze until the bell. If Mr. Schue notices, he doesn’t say anything, and when Finn’s on his way out of class, Mr. Schue says, “See you in the auditorium this afternoon, Finn.”

“You got it, Mr. Schue!” Finn says. He passes Furman outside the room, and if he accidentally bumps into him a little too hard when he’s not paying attention to where he’s walking, that’s not _exactly_ starting something. It’s more like opening a window for somebody else to start something if they really, really wanted to. Furman must not want to, though, because he just takes a step in the other direction, muttering something under his breath that Finn can’t quite hear, but can take a guess at. Finn narrows his eyes at Furman and says, “Yeah, you _wish_ you were that lucky.”

Furman takes another step back, looking surprised, and Finn keeps on walking to his A&P class like a boss. His A&P teacher has given up on doing anything other than providing handouts to help them study for the final, so Finn pretends to look at his handout while he takes the rest of the nap he didn’t finish in Spanish. After class lets out, Finn walks down to the auditorium and settles into the seat next to Kurt.

“Have fun in your classes?” Finn asks.

“A joyous occasion,” Kurt says dryly. “You?”

“I took a nap and didn’t kick somebody’s ass,” Finn says. “So, you know, half good, half meh.”

“Shouldn’t it be good that you didn’t have to kick anyone’s ass?”

“Oh, it needed kicked. I just didn’t kick it. Definitely needed kicked, though.”

“Furman again?” Kurt raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeeeah,” Finn says, sliding down in his seat a little. “I might possibly a little bit have confirmed those rumors. Just, kinda.”

“Finn!” Kurt shakes his head. “What did you _say_?”

“Uh. That he wishes he was that lucky?” Finn grins at Kurt in a way that hopefully works to keep Kurt from being too pissed, but if it doesn’t, he’ll just accept a pissed-off Kurt and move right along.

“Finn,” Kurt groans, putting his head in his hands briefly. “In response to what? No, don’t tell me.” He shakes his head again and sighs. “Well, you know no one’s going to believe Furman, not after the two of you had that fight.”

“Yeah, that’s, uh. I was totally thinking of that!” Finn says. “That’s definitely why it was ok to say it.”

“Mmmhmm.” Kurt shakes his head a final time as some of the others show up. The rest of them are there for a few minutes before Mr. Schue finally makes it, and the kids waiting to audition are all looking kind of nervous and impatient, which Finn thinks is probably really great practice for actual glee club.

When Mr. Schue does get there, he waves his hand at the group of kids waiting, like he’s not even gonna pick one, just somebody get up there. The first person who walks up onto the stage is one of the girls from PFLAG, the ‘Wears Lipstick’ girl with the name that reminds him of New York, but he can’t remember why. 

“I’m Brooklyn,” says ‘Wears Lipstick’, and obviously _that’s_ why her name reminds Finn of New York! “I’m singing ‘Kiss With a Fist’ by Florence + the Machine.”

She sounds pretty good, and Mr. Schue seems impressed, but Finn leans over and whispers to Kurt, “You totally could have sung that better.” 

Kurt smiles briefly and looks pleased, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look mad about what Finn said before, though, and smiling Kurt is the next–best Kurt; Finn’ll take it. 

The next person up on the stage isn’t one person. It’s a group of three Cheerios who don’t seem to realize they’re not supposed to all stand together as a group when they audition. Two of them finally seem to figure it out, and stand a few steps back while the one girl announces her name is Annie Kim and she’s singing ‘Set Fire to the Rain’ by Adele.

“Didn’t Brown’s sister sing that yesterday?” Finn asks Kurt.

“Yes,” Kurt says, nodding with a little frown. “Alicia won’t be happy.”

“Do you think all the Cheerios are singing that?”

“If they are, Coach Sylvester might have to find a new squad to keep her HBIC happy.”

“Alicia’s scaaaaaary,” Finn whispers, laughing. “That girl up there isn’t as good, either.”

“She can oooh and sway in the background?” Kurt says, giggling. 

“Cheerios are good at that!” Finn agrees. “Oops, she’s done. I think we mostly missed it.” Sure enough, the Annie girl is walking to the back of the stage and one of the other Cheerios is coming forward, but she _isn’t_ singing Adele, at least.

“Hi, I’m Jenni Davis, and I’m going to sing the Dusty Springfield classic ‘Son of a Preacher Man’.” She beams a bright Cheerio smile at all of them. She’s good. _Really_ good. Not quite AV phone-thief Roger good, but pretty damn good, and she’s definitely going to be in the club next year, which may or may not make Brown’s sister happy. 

The third Cheerio’s kind of a mumbler, and Finn doesn’t catch her name or recognize the song she’s singing, so instead of paying attention, he puts his hand on Kurt’s legs and slides it up the inside of his thigh. Kurt kind of rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move his leg away or make Finn move his hand. Finn moves his hand a little higher, until his pinky finger is brushing against Kurt’s cock through his pants. Kurt looks over at him and raises one eyebrow. Finn grins at him and puts his ring finger there, too.

Kurt leans towards him, his lips brushing against Finn’s ear. “Did you want to skip auditions, darling? Only I think you’re rather expected to be here.”

Finn smiles even wider. “Yeah, I think they’d notice if I left,” he says, and he does move his hand back down Kurt’s leg to his knee, but he leaves it on his knee. Who really gives a shit if anybody in glee sees his hand on Kurt’s knee, anyway? Finn could kick all their asses.

The boring Cheerio is done, which is either great, because she was pretty awful, or terrible, because now people might definitely notice if he starts touching Kurt again. The next person auditioning is another girl, because apparently Wednesday is ladies’ day for glee auditions, and maybe they get half-priced drinks after or something. She plays some song on the guitar that Finn doesn’t recognize, but it sounds pretty decent. The guy after her wouldn’t suck except he’s trying to sing something way too high for him, and his voice keeps breaking, and the guy after _him_ forgets the words to his song, gets flustered, and then almost falls off the stage.

When it’s all said and done, Tuesday’s auditions were _way_ better. The kids who auditioned all leave, and the glee club gathers around Mr. Schue. Tina pulls out her note pad and her pencil.

“So, ‘Wears Lipstick’ is good,” Finn says. “Uh, Brooklyn? That’s her name?”

Tina laughs. “I keep thinking of her as ‘Wears Lipstick’ too! Do you think some of them think of us by our shirts?”

“Nah, we’re _famous_ ,” Finn says, shaking his head. “They know our names.”

“Right.” Mike grins at Finn. “Well, that one Cheerio couldn’t sing very well, but she danced pretty nicely. Not as good as Mandy, but good.”

“The girl with the guitar seemed pretty good.” Sam screws up his face like he’s thinking. “Puck would be able to tell us better, but I think she improvised some of her playing. He at work?”

“Yep,” Finn says, he and Kurt both nodding. “Oh, and I think Alicia Brown’s gonna be _pissed_ about the Adele thing. Let’s none of us be the one who tells her, ok?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s going to blow a gasket,” Santana says, but she sounds like she definitely approves of that, and then she and Quinn nod at each other. Santana almost sounds like Alicia’s her little baby bird learning how to fly. It’s either cute or really creepy, or maybe some of both.

“The girl that did ‘Son of a Preacher Man’ was really good,” Mercedes says, stretching out the word ‘good’. “Make sure she’s on your list, Tina.”

“Everybody’s on Tina’s list,” Finn says. “Just put stars by the really awesome ones.”

 

Kurt frowns at his computer, then notices the time, and closes his laptop before heading into the hall, pulling his door shut behind him and listening for the click of the lock when he tries to turn the handle. He stops at Finn’s door and knocks once. “Finn?”

“What’s the password?” Finn answers.

“ _Survivor_ starts in ten minutes and we have to get our food ready?” Kurt guesses. 

Finn’s door opens. “That’ll work! Season finaaaaaale!” he sing-songs. 

“Exactly.” Kurt grins. “Chips and salsa or corn chips and dip?”

“Yes?” Finn says. 

“Good answer,” Kurt agrees after a moment, and when they reach the kitchen Kurt pulls out salsa, dip, and guacamole, for good measure, and then two cans of Pepsi Throwback. “One can of pop enough, or shall we splurge with two for the finale?” 

“One for each hour,” Finn says. “We should pace ourselves so we don’t have to get up and pee during the challenges.”

Kurt starts to nod, getting out two more cans, and then he stares at Finn. “Wait, what? Two hours?”

“Yeah, dude it’s the season fin — oh, _fuck_.”

“Yeah.” Kurt bites his lip. “Maybe someone will come in at 8:55. Or break something. Or both!”

“We could call somebody. Tina, maybe? Tell her it’s an emergency and she has to go place a really confusing coffee order at 8:45!”

“Mike already knows about _Survivor_ ,” Kurt points out, carrying the pop into the living room. “Call him?”

“Already on it, bossofme,” Finn says, pulling out his phone. He quickly types in a text to Mike. “There, I told him it was _really_ important that Puck stays at work until, like, not _Survivor_.”

Kurt nods, though he’s not sure Mike can really buy them an entire hour. Maybe. He goes back to the kitchen to get the last of the food, and when he gets back in the living room, Finn’s already got the television on the right channel. He puts the dip and salsa and guacamole in the exact center of the coffee table, because it’s not their fault that they have to sit close together in order to share the food. That’s Kurt’s theory, anyway. He sits down on the sofa, legs curled underneath him, and opens one of the cans of pop. 

“It’ll be weird for everyone to be back on there,” he says. 

“I’m so excited. Don’t tell anybody how excited I am, ok?” Finn says. 

Kurt looks at Finn incredulously. “Who would I tell? Mike?”

“I don’t know. Just don’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t if you won’t!”

“I would _never_!” Finn promises, looking horrified by the idea. “This is, like, _sacred_.”

“I know,” Kurt nods solemnly. 

As the show progresses, Kurt has to acknowledge that they aren’t sitting in a particularly ‘brotherly’ fashion, but since Carole seems to be upstairs for the evening, he figures they can gloss over it with his dad, if necessary. The first hour is almost over when Kurt can feel Finn’s phone vibrating in his pocket. “Text, darling.”

“Oh, is that what that was?” Finn grins at Kurt, then pulls his phone out of his pocket. “It’s Mike,” he says. Finn holds up the phone so Kurt can read the text: _Target spotted. Mission commencing._ “We seriously never should have watched that movie with him. He’s like a freak for the spy stuff.”

Kurt tries not to laugh too loudly. “At least it’ll buy us a little time. Though probably not the full hour. Do you think we can convince Puck we’re watching a baseball game or something?” Kurt frowns. “No, probably not,” he says, answering his own question. 

“We’ll tell him it’s a movie with a sad ending,” Finn says. “The girlfriend dies and then the guy marries the girl nobody likes, and it’s terrible. He’d hate it.”

Kurt laughs again. “I think we would hate it, too. But we’ll try it.”

Another thirty minutes or so passes before Kurt feels Finn’s phone vibrate again. “Is that Mike again?”

Finn looks at his phone. “Shit. He’s on his way home!” He makes a pouty face and then rests his head on top of Kurt’s. “I just want to see how it ends,” he whines. 

“I’m sure he’ll, um.” Kurt wrinkles his nose. “Want to take a shower.”

“To wash off the coffee smell,” Finn agrees, pulling Kurt a little closer. “And leave us alone for thirty more minutes!”

“He’s going to think we’re watching porn without him or something,” Kurt giggles. “Epic–length.”

“Better that than this,” Finn whispers into the top of Kurt’s head. “He’d never understand.”

“No,” Kurt agrees sadly. 

Before long, Kurt can hear the Nav in the driveway, and someone at CBS must be looking out for them, because it goes to commercial just as Puck opens the door from the garage and walks down the hall. 

“Hi, honey, I’m home,” Puck jokes in the doorway. 

“Hey, Puck!” Finn calls out. 

“Hello, sugar–muffin,” Kurt says dryly, and Puck laughs. 

“What’s on?”

“Oh, um.” Kurt looks over at Finn. “Nothing. Really. You should shower.”

“The news. And a movie. Sad one,” Finn says. “You smell like coffee. You should shower, like Kurt says.”

“The news is very sad,” Kurt agrees, nodding. 

Puck frowns at them. “How can you smell me from there?”

“I, uh. Can’t. I just know, from other times,” Finn says. “And I want you to wallow around on me, so you need to smell clean or whatever, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Kurt can tell Puck’s getting suspicious. “Did you prank the shower or something, dude?”

“Huh?” Finn asks, and the confused look on his face is, luckily, too real to be anything less than genuine. “How would I prank the shower?”

“I don’t know, but I still think you did.” Puck shakes his head. “Maybe I’ll use the other shower. Or, wait.” Puck looks at Kurt. “Maybe it’s my clothes?”

“No, baby. Nothing to do with your clothes,” Kurt assures him, and that’s at least easy, too, because Kurt hasn’t touched any clothes except to remove them since he went to work on Finn’s shirts on Sunday morning. 

Puck’s about to head up the stairs, Kurt can tell, and he’s starting to think they might get away with it when the commercial break ends. “Darling?” Kurt says, and he knows he sounds weird and strangled. “Did you, uh. Sit on the remote and change the channel?”

“Huh?” Finn says again, before he catches on. “Oh! Yeah! I sat on the remote and changed the channel with my ass! Sorry!” He says this all just a little too loudly. 

“K…” Puck says slowly. “The remote’s on the coffee table. On the other side of the dip.”

“Oh.” Kurt sighs. “Well, shit.”

“I sat on it before!” Finn says, even louder. “Then moved it! But didn’t change the channel back, because of how I didn’t notice!”

“Right.” Puck shakes his head and sits down in Burt’s chair. “I feel betrayed, you two.”

“It’s. Uh. The season finale!” Kurt says brightly. “We just were… bored. And turned it on.” Which is sort of true. They were bored and turned it on the first night they watched it. Back at the beginning of the season. 

“Shhh,” Finn hisses. “Jeff’s gonna read something off the card!”

Kurt turns back to the screen, but he can see Puck out of the corner of his eye, and Puck’s shaking his head. “I’m going to go shower,” he says, sniffing. “Maybe you two can come find me after they crown someone with their torches or whatever.”

“The torches don’t go on their heads, asshole,” Finn says, without looking away from the screen. “They just stay lit or get put out.”

“You’re totally busting us,” Kurt whispers. 

“I can’t help it. He’s getting it wrong!” Finn whispers back, almost frantically. “I don’t know how to stop!”

Puck starts laughing, heading out of the living room. “This is priceless.” He gets to the stairs and then Kurt hears him stop. “Wait, is that why Mike came in to work when I was getting ready to close?” He scoffs. “You two are _so_ getting it. Yes, Finn, after the show.”

“What do you think we’re getting?” Finn whispers to Kurt. “I’d be scared but, you know. _Survivor_!”

“I think anything he could do to punish us would punish him _more_ ,” Kurt replies, shrugging. “We’ll take him some food and a pop when it’s over. And give him lots of kisses.”

“I don’t think just kisses are gonna cut it,” Finn says. “We are soooo busted.”

“Hmmm.” Kurt tilts his head to the side. “We could do like we did to you, the other day. That’s sort of like kisses.” He smirks. “Right?”

Finn’s face turns red, but he doesn’t argue. “It’s definitely sort of like kisses,” he says.

Kurt sighs a little. “And then we convince him not to post about it on Facebook.”

 

By the time history starts on Thursday morning, Puck is more or less convinced not to tell anyone about Finn and Kurt’s secret _Survivor_ habit. Now he knows what they were really doing on Sunday morning while he was at work; watching the episode they missed while they were all in New York. 

Puck’s convinced that the last week of school is a waste of time; he’s always thought that, actually, but it’s even worse now that he’s finally graduating, and really, the best part about the entire week has been leaving for fourth period and lunch with Kurt and Finn. Since they did Joey’s the day before, they get hamburgers on Thursday, and then they climb into the back of the Nav until Kurt has to go to French class and Finn has to make an appearance with Schue. Technically Puck could skip class, but Ms. P said he’s still supposed to sit in the choir room, so he does that, writing down a few songs and tweaking some others. 

Kurt gets back a few minutes before the bell, so they head towards the auditorium for their ‘open rehearsal.’ Puck has his acoustic with him, because he figures he’ll end up bat–guitaring at least once, but at least to begin with, he just takes a seat next to Kurt. Finn comes in just a minute or two later and sits on the other side of Puck. 

“Hey,” Finn says, and he leans over like he’s about to kiss Puck, then freezes. “Uh. Oops.”

“Hi,” Puck says wryly. “Ready to rehearse openly?”

“I already rehearsed or whatever. I’m ready to sit here and watch people rehearse,” Finn says.

“Schue has a ‘group number’ for us, remember?” Kurt says. “I’m sure it’s something awful and cheesy, like that ‘That’s What Friends Are For’ song.”

“Schue does love his classics,” Puck snorts, and Finn laughs. 

Schue waits a little later than usual to start rehearsal, and he stands up in front of them all with a notepad and a pen. “Welcome to all of you here to observe our rehearsal. We all thought that any of you with questions about how glee club works could best have them answered by watching a relatively typical rehearsal. Most weeks, we have a theme, and the members of the club choose a song within that theme to perform, either as a solo or in a group.” He pauses. “This week, we’re working on end of the year and graduation songs. So you’re going to see four of those performance, and then a group number at the end.” He smiles broadly up at the back of the auditorium, and then at the twelve of them. “All right, who’d like to perform first today?”

“I would, Mr. Schuester!” Rachel springs out of her seat and hurries up the stairs. 

It takes Puck a lot of effort not to start laughing, because it turns out that it’s _Rachel_ doing ‘That’s What Friends Are For’. 

Finn starts singing quietly in a high pitched voice, “Keep whining, keep crying…”

Kurt outright giggles, and Puck has to cover his mouth with his hand. The song mercifully ends, and even Schue looks a little confused. 

“Well, Rachel, that’s a very… classic choice.” He grimaces a little, and Puck briefly wonders if Schue had to endure it when it was first released. “Who’s next?”

“Mr. Schue, I need Puck to be my bat–guitar,” Brittany says. “Puck, will you do me the honor of being my bat–guitar?”

“Wouldn’t feel like glee club without bat–guitar at least once,” Puck grins and stands up, grabbing his guitar and heading up on the stage with Brittany. “What am I bat–guitaring?”

“‘If You Want to Sing Out’ by that guy who used to be named Cat Stevens!” Brittany says. 

“Cool.” Puck can never remember what the guy calls himself now, either. 

Brittany starts singing, and it’s possibly the single most upbeat song anybody has ever done in glee club. 

_Well, if you want to sing out, sing out  
And if you want to be free, be free  
’Cause there's a million things to be  
You know that there are_

By the time she’s at the end, everybody who knows the song or has picked up on the lyrics at all is singing along, because it’s too much fun. Brittany seems pleased with herself when the song is over and sits back down next to Santana with a huge smile on her face.

“Oh, wow, great choice, Brittany!” Schue smiles at her. “I haven’t heard that song in years. Who’s next?”

“I’ll go,” Tina volunteers, and luckily for Puck, she doesn’t need bat–guitar. “I’m going to do ‘This Used to Be My Playground’.” 

Puck has to admit that he actually really likes _A League of Their Own_ , so he doesn’t think much about the song until Tina gets to the very end. 

_This used to be our playground  
This used to be our great escape  
This used to be the place we ran to  
This used to be our secret hiding place_

_This used to be our playground  
This used to be our childhood dream  
This used to be the place we ran to  
The best things in life are always free  
Wishing you were here with me_

If they’re choosing their song for graduation based on how many people cry, they’ve totally found it, because all of the girls, including Tina, are crying, Sam and Mike both look a little overwhelmed, and when Puck looks to the side, Finn’s eyes are sort of shiny, like he considered crying but decided against it or something. Kurt has a single tear running down his cheek and Puck’s pretty sure Schue’s trying to hide the fact that he’s crying, too. 

“That was a great choice, Tina,” Schue manages, sounding a little choked up. “I’m not sure how anyone can follow that, but.”

“I’ll try,” Sam says wryly. “I was wondering if I could get the rest of the guys up here, though?”

Puck looks at Kurt and Finn both, who look just as confused as he does, but they head up the stairs, and Mike and Sam carry Artie up on stage, too. 

“So, later tonight at Senior Showcase, we’re all going to do the song we did the first week of school this year. But I thought maybe we’d like to tackle one more Tom Petty song before the end,” Sam says, half to them and half to Schue. “Puck, you know the chords for ‘Learning to Fly’?” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Puck nods. Since the rest of them weren’t exactly prepared, Sam sings most of the verses alone, but they join in on the last verse and the chorus. 

_Well some say life will beat you down  
Break your heart, steal your crown  
So I've started out for God knows where  
I guess I'll know when I get there_

_I'm learning to fly, around the clouds  
But what goes up must come down_

_I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings  
Coming down is the hardest thing_

“That was great, guys,” Schue says at the end. “Nice idea, Sam. Now, you all stay up there, and girls, join them. There’s lyrics on the piano if you need them. I looked online for possible graduation songs and this one kept coming up.”

Puck groans when he looks at the lyric sheet. He’s not sure which is worse, actually; Rachel and her ‘80s cheesefest, or Schue suggesting Vitamin C. He’s not the only who groans, though. 

“Just try it,” Schue says. “Just once. Show our visitors a group performance.”

“Uh, Mr. Schue?” Finn says. “This might _scare_ them.”

Puck laughs, and so do a few others, and Schue just looks almost sad. 

“We can manage one run-through, I guess,” Mike says, and there’s a few nods. The jazz band starts playing, and Puck still thinks that Finn might be right. 

_Will we think about tomorrow like we think about now?  
Can we survive it out there?  
Can we make it somehow?  
I guess I thought that this would never end  
And suddenly it's like we're women and men  
Will the past be a shadow that will follow us 'round?  
Will these memories fade when I leave this town  
I keep, keep thinking that it's not goodbye  
Keep on thinking it's a time to fly_

“See, guys? That was great!” Schue says at the end of the song. 

“Yeah, it was great!” Finn says, bracingly. 

Schue turns to address their onlookers. “So, if you liked what you saw, or you’re just interested in learning more, we’re having a final day of auditions tomorrow afternoon after school! We hope to see you there.”

 

Finn, Kurt, and Puck eat quickly after they get back home, because everyone actually performing in Senior Showcase has to be at the school over an hour before it starts, and they have to get dressed beforehand, too. It’s odd to get ready for a performance and _not_ be wearing the same thing as everyone else in glee club. 

Kurt picks out one of his seemingly tamer suits—solid color, no stripes—but with a pink shirt and a tie that’s a lighter shade of pink. Puck decides to tempt fate a little and wear the same outfit he wore out in Chicago—the same outfit that appeared in Kurt’s PFLAG slide show back in February, at least from the neck down—but he doesn’t have _that_ many choices. Kurt may have insisted that he had to buy a tuxedo, too, but Senior Showcase is not exactly black tie. 

Of course, it also means Puck gets to tie a lot of ties – first his own, which isn’t nearly as fun, and then Kurt’s, which he finishes with a soft kiss. There’s a quiet tapping on the door, and Kurt calls “come in” softly, then shakes his head and walks to the door to unlock it. Finn’s standing there with a sheepish look on his face and holds his tie out in Puck’s direction without saying anything.

Puck shakes his head and grins as Kurt closes and locks the door again, and then Puck takes the tie and steps in front of Finn. “You’re really never going to learn now, are you?” he teases, flipping up Finn’s collar and starting to tie it. 

“It’s better when you do it,” Finn says. 

“Oh, you haven’t even experienced the best part, yet,” Kurt says.

“What’s the best part?”

Puck smirks and straightens the knot, then Finn’s collar. “That would be this,” he says, then pulls Finn’s head down a little, just enough to brush against his lips. 

Finn sighs quietly and smiles. “Yeah, that’s the best part.”

Kurt walks over and puts one hand on Puck’s back and the other on Finn’s. “Ready, my loves?”

“Do I look ok?” Finn asks. “I mean, I know the _tie_ looks great, but the rest of me?”

Puck grins. “I’d totally fuck you.”

“Yeah, but you’d do that if I were wearing pajamas,” Finn says. “Doesn’t count.”

“Well. Yeah.” Puck shrugs. “But you look good, darling.”

“He’s right.” Kurt smirks. “On both counts, but the first will have to wait until later.”

“My hair looks ok?”

“It does,” Kurt nods. 

“Oh, wait,” Puck laughs. “Does mine?”

Kurt shakes his head. “Come on, baby.” He looks around the room. “Are we ready?”

Puck grins. “Let’s do this thing.”

Backstage is complete chaos; the lobby wasn’t much better, with art teachers still putting out sculptures and paintings and whatever, and there’s one science fair project, but most of the evening is all the performances. New Directions got put at the end, probably because of how many slots they were entitled to, but Puck looks over the program and they’re still going to have to endure seven instrumental solos, two instrumental group numbers, and five dances, all before Rachel kicks off their set. 

Puck thinks the night is probably stranger for the marching band or whoever, because they’re used to playing with lots of other people in other grades, but for the twelve of them, in theory it’s just another performance. The show finally gets started and they hang out backstage, sitting gingerly in the fold-out chairs and waiting for the tuba to finish playing ‘Imperial March’.

Finally, it’s Rachel’s turn, and she walks out on stage and delivers what Puck has to admit is a stunning rendition of ‘Don’t Rain on My Parade’, better than she did at Sectionals sophomore year. The applause is long and loud, and Rachel’s beaming when she walks off the stage. 

Mike and Brittany dance together after that, to a song that Puck doesn’t immediately recognize, and then it’s their turn to do ‘Desire’. Puck picks up the Fender and they head out onto the stage. The auditorium is more full than Puck expected, but then everyone there probably has multiple family members watching. Rina even said she and Hannah would be there with Nana, though Puck couldn’t find them before the lights went down. 

The song’s still fun to sing, though Puck has to admit there’s a slightly different undercurrent now, and they get a lot of applause at the end, too. 

Sam and Mercedes reprise their duet from January, ‘It Takes Two’, and then the trio of Quinn, Santana, and Brittany perform ‘This Is the Last Dance’. 

Rachel and Kurt sing a duet next, which Kurt explained to Puck and Finn was the song they sang the year before in New York City, when they broke into the Gershwin Theatre. Puck recognizes the song from all the times Kurt’s played it— Rachel and Kurt sing a duet, he’s pretty sure, and the two of them do a fantastic job. 

“They’ll sing on bigger stages,” Puck murmurs to Finn in the middle of the song. 

“Hell yeah, they will,” Finn says. “God, he’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees. “He really is.”

Finn’s hand finds Puck’s and squeezes it, and then they stand, hand in hand, watching the rest of the performance. Rachel and Kurt get the first standing ovation of the night, and when Kurt gets off the stage, Puck and Finn tug him close, hugging him right there. Fuck it, Puck figures. If they can’t hug anymore, then people can just think what they want. 

Tina does a good job covering Etta James’ ‘At Last’ and then all the guys go out and do ‘Time to Move On’ which seemed quite appropriate when they were deciding. Puck misses most of Artie’s rapping while he puts up his guitar, and then he laughs while the girls do their sophomore–year mash-up of ‘Halo’ and ‘Walking on Sunshine’. He spends part of that, though, trying to get Kurt to explain what the line ‘Original Five’ means, but Kurt just smirks and says he can wait like everyone else. 

When the girls finish, Rachel, Tina, and Mercedes stay on stage, and Artie and Kurt join them. Rachel picks up a microphone and smiles. “You might have noticed that your program simply says ‘original five’. The five of us were the only members of New Directions at the beginning of our sophomore year, and while our family grew later, Mr. Schuester, this? Is for you.”

With that, the five of them do a horribly campy version of ‘Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ the Boat’, which does in fact seem to make Mr. Schue very happy. They’re all laughing more than they are singing by the final chorus, and then the lights go down for all of them to take their places and start on the _very_ familiar group number. 

Maybe the rest of the audience doesn’t know why they picked it, but that’s okay. _They_ know, and yeah, Senior Showcase is supposed to be for the teachers and parents and all of that, but really, Puck figures it’s actually for the seniors, and the twelve of them definitely wanted to sing ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ at least one more time.

It seems appropriate, too, that they managed to finish the show, and when the music ends, most of the audience stands, clapping vigorously. The twelve of them hug and high five and fist bump until they slowly start to make their way off the stage, through backstage, and then out into the packed lobby. 

Rina, Hannah, and Nana are standing with Burt and Carole, which is at least efficient for the three of them. “That was wonderful, boys!” Nana greets them. “Are you sure you’re old enough to graduate, though?”

“Whether we are or not, they’re letting us,” Puck says with a grin. 

“You did good, Noah!” Hannah grins. “You too, Kurt.” Then she looks at Finn and laughs. “I couldn’t tell if you did because I was too distracted by the snakes!”

“Puck, I didn’t think you were allowed to let your monkey out of the apartment,” Finn says. 

“But then I realized that they were actually your scaly fingers!” Hannah finishes triumphantly, like Finn didn’t say a word. 

“’Cause now she’s flinging poop all over the place,” Finn continues, also ignoring Hannah. “So gross, dude!”

Puck rolls his eyes, and Kurt looks over at him and shrugs. “Should we each deal with our own younger sibling,” he says, saying ‘younger sibling’ a little louder, his eyes cutting towards Carole, “or shall we switch?”

“Oh, switch, please,” Puck laughs. He puts his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Dude. You can insult her for years once you’re in your nice a-romantic, separate living spaces, arranged marriage.”

“She started it,” Finn says. 

Puck shakes his head slowly. “Nope. Sorry, not a good enough excuse.” 

For his part, Kurt is whispering to Hannah, who’s nodding periodically, seemingly in total agreement with whatever Kurt is telling her. 

“Well,” Carole says into the relative silence. “Those were some wonderful performances, boys.”

“Thanks!” Finn says, with a huge smile that probably only Puck and Kurt would realize is completely fake. 

“They were lovely,” Rina agrees. “Kurt, that duet you did with Rachel Berry was magnificent.”

“Thank you,” Kurt smiles. 

“That was great, boys,” Burt says. “I was impressed!”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“You boys heading home?” Burt asks. “Or do you and the rest of the glee club have stuff planned?”

“Oh, um.” Kurt stops for a split second. “I think Mike and Tina mentioned something about everyone heading out to the Dairy King, actually.”

“Celebratory milkshakes,” Finn agrees, nodding his head. “Since we aren’t old enough for the bar.”

“You certainly aren’t,” Carole agrees, shaking her head. 

“No, you boys definitely aren’t old enough to drink,” Burt says, and the look on his face may be a little pointed.

“Especially not in a bar,” Kurt says, and his voice might be just a touch too sweet. “It would be very irresponsible of a bar owner. And, of course, anytime someone drinks when they aren’t at home, there’s the issue of getting home safely to consider.” Apparently Kurt thought it was a little pointed, too, but instead of backing down, he’s going to try to make a point. And well, he does have a point. It makes a lot more sense for the three of them to have a few of Burt’s beers than to try to get alcohol any other way, and Puck especially knows that from past experience. 

“Mmhmm,” Burt says, crossing his arms, but he doesn’t say anything else, just raises an eyebrow at Kurt.

Kurt manages to keep looking directly at Burt, his face not really changing. “Of course, tonight we’re just going out for milkshakes. It’s practically like the 1950s.”

“Mmhmm,” Burt repeats. “Well, you three don’t stay out too late and try to behave yourselves.”

“Of course, Dad.”

“Can’t into too much trouble with milkshakes,” Finn says. “Right?”

“Definitely not,” Puck agrees. 

“We’ll make sure to come in quietly,” Kurt says to Burt. 

Puck glances at Rina, but she looks amused; Carole, on the other hand, has her lips pressed together just a little too much for the proud mother of a graduating senior. 

“Well, you boys have fun,” Rina says. “I’m going to get Hannah home and into bed.”

“Mom!” Hannah protests. “I want milkshakes, too!”

“Maybe this weekend, Hannah,” Rina answers her. “Come on.”

“Fine. Bye, Noah! Bye, Kurt! Bye, Snake–Fingers!” Hannah waves merrily at them over her shoulder and follows Rina out, and Nana leaves after a round of hugs. 

“We’re going to go grab some of the others,” Kurt says with a smile. “Good night!”

Puck’s pretty sure there were zero plans made, but if it means Carole and Burt will be asleep, he’s definitely on board with a milkshake first. As they head towards the door, they pass by Mike and Tina, and Kurt stops. 

“We’re going to get milkshakes for a bit,” he says to them. “Want to join us?”

“Are you sure?” Mike asks with a smirk. 

“Plausible deniability,” Kurt retorts. 

Mike laughs. “Yeah, that makes sense. Milkshakes sound good.” He shoots a grin at Tina. “You’ll love this.”

“I will?” Tina looks a little puzzled. 

“Oh, yeah, she definitely will,” Puck laughs, thinking about Tina’s T-shirt. 

When they get to Dairy King, they pick a booth, and Puck slides in first, Finn in the middle and Kurt on the outside. Finn’s arms go around the two of them like he’s not even thinking about it, and honestly, he’s probably not. It’s just what he does. Tina and Mike walk in just a few seconds behind them and Puck can tell the moment it hits Tina, because she stops a few feet from the table. 

“Am I imagining things?”

Mike laughs again and tugs her towards the table. “Imagining what?”

“I… You three…” She seems to be unsure how to word it, looking at Mike, a little wide-eyed. 

“We aren’t the only ones who figured out where more than two sets of legs go,” Mike says with a grin. 

Finn shrugs and says, “The legs are kinda the easiest thing to figure out.”

Tina giggles. “You three! Look at you, all so smug.”

Kurt shrugs. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t be?”

“I guess not!” Tina agrees. 

The server comes by to take their order, and their milkshakes get made pretty quickly, which is awesome. Once the milkshakes are on the table, Finn leans forward to drink his, his tie swings perilously close to his glass. Puck reaches his hand out to stop it at the same time Kurt does, and they both laugh. 

“Watch the tie,” Puck says wryly. 

“You watch the tie,” Finn responds. “I’ll watch the milkshake.”

“I can’t watch my tie, your tie, _and_ my own milkshake,” Puck frowns. “This seems patently unfair.”

“How about,” Finn says, touching Puck’s tie with his fingertips, “you watch my tie, and I watch your tie?”

“That might work.”

“I’m so proud,” Kurt says, leaning his head on Finn’s shoulder. “No one mentioned taking off the ties. I’ve taught you both well.”

“Yeah, but who’s gonna watch _your_ tie, bossofus?” Finn says. 

“Both of you,” Kurt says with a shrug. “Right?”

Finn takes Kurt’s tie between his fingers and deliberately holds it away from Kurt’s milkshake. “I don’t think Puck can reach, so drink your milkshake fast. I’ve gotta get back to holding _his_ tie.”

Puck grins and then glances back at Tina, who looks absolutely fascinated by the three of them. “That is _so_ hot,” she whispers. 

Mike grins at her and pulls her against his side. “I guess I know why you left at the crack of dawn a couple of weeks ago,” he says to Finn. 

Finn blushes, then shrugs, then blushes more, all without letting go of Kurt’s tie. “Well, it was… uh. A thing.” He rolls the fabric of Kurt’s tie between his fingertips. 

Kurt smirks. “But a nice way to wake up.” Finn smiles and ducks his head, but doesn’t say anything or stop touching Kurt’s tie. 

Tina almost absently runs her hand down Mike’s chest. “You know, it’s so nice they have to-go cups here!” she says brightly. “Mike, do you think your mom is asleep yet?”

Mike blinks. “Tina, uh.” Then he shrugs. “Probably.” He grins at the three of them. “Have we socialized sufficiently for your plausible deniability?”

“I think so,” Kurt nods, and he and Tina exchange a smirk. “Finn darling, would you go get our to-go cups?”

Finn shakes his head slightly, like he’s clearing it. “Uh. Yeah, I can do that. You have to let me out, though.”

“You have to let go of my tie.”

“Oh. You sure? I could just bring you with me.”

“You can bring me with you after we have to-go cups.”

“Ok, bossofme,” Finn says, letting go of Kurt’s tie. Kurt slides out of the booth to let Finn out, and Finn goes up to get to-go cups. He comes back with five of them, setting two in front of Mike and Tina and the other three in front of Kurt. After the to-go cups are filled and the bill paid, the five of them stand on the sidewalk for a moment. 

“Have a good evening,” Puck says, smirking. 

“Oh, we will!” Tina grins back. “You, too.”

“Don’t worry,” Kurt says smugly. “We will as well.”

With a laugh, Tina turns around, pulling Mike with her towards her car, and Mike waves over his shoulder. 

“Well,” Finn says. “Tina knows.”

“And thinks it’s hot,” Puck points out. The three of them walk towards the Nav, still drinking their milkshakes. 

“Uh. It is hot,” Finn says. “Look at the two of you.”

“Look at you,” Puck retorts. 

“What about me?” Finn asks, running his hand down Puck’s tie. “Not me. You two.”

“Yes, you too,” Puck says, rolling his eyes a little. “C’mon, before I kiss you in the middle of the parking lot and we get run over.”

 

Luckily, they seem to have distracted Tina enough that she doesn’t send out any texts about meeting for breakfast at Starbucks on Friday morning, so Puck, Kurt, and Finn head to Waffle House. Puck has the philosophy that they should eat at Waffle House as much as possible until August, because then they’ll have to find some new cheap place for waffles in New York City. 

Mrs. Vey passes out a review sheet for the final and tells them to ‘work together’ on reviewing all the topics, which actually means that the four of them take turns napping. Physics is another review sheet, which means pretending to nap while playing footsie, and then Puck reluctantly goes to English for his third review sheet of the day. He tries to nap there, too, but Rachel pokes him every three minutes and fifteen seconds, which makes it hard to get in a good nap. 

When they get to the choir room, Schue isn’t there, so Puck tries to convince Kurt that he needs another nap, but Kurt just smirks and shakes his head. “We can all go find a bed afterwards,” Kurt points out. 

“I like that plan,” Finn says. “It’s a good plan!”

Schue walks in then, smiling really proudly, to the point that it’s almost a little creepy. “You guys did so well yesterday! Both in rehearsal and at Senior Showcase last night. I had a couple of other teachers tell me how glad they were you used all twelve of your slots, even though they had been a little afraid when they saw the program.” He scans the room. “So, our last four songs, and a quick discussion about what to sing at graduation?”

“I’ll go first today!” Mike volunteers. “I’m going to do ‘Live Like We’re Dying’ by The Script.” 

_Yeah, we gotta start  
Looking at the hands of the time we've been given  
If this is all we got and we gotta start thinking  
If every second counts on a clock that's ticking  
Gotta live like we're dying_

_We only got 86,400 seconds in a day to  
Turn it all around or to throw it all away  
We gotta tell them that we love them  
While we got the chance to say  
Gotta live like we're dying_

“Nice choice, Mike, I like that,” Schue says at the end of the song. “Who’d like to go next?”

Mercedes volunteers, announcing that she’s going to do ‘Survivor’ by Destiny’s Child. It seems like a weird choice but Puck guesses it’s not a horrible choice for graduation, maybe. They did all survive, after all. 

_I'm a survivor  
I'm not gon give up  
I'm not gon stop   
I'm gon work harder  
I'm a survivor   
I'm gonna make it   
I will survive   
Keep on survivin'_

“Oh, a different choice, Mercedes, interesting,” Schue nods. “And a great performance, thanks.” He looks up. “Quinn? Puck?”

“I can go, Mr. Schue,” Quinn says. I’m singing ‘Friends are Friends Forever’.” 

_Packing up the dreams God planted  
In the fertile soil of you  
I can't believe the hopes He's granted  
Means a chapter of your life is through_

_But we'll keep you close as always  
It won't even seem you've gone  
’Cause our hearts in big and small ways  
Will keep the love that keeps us strong_

“That was lovely, Quinn,” Schue says at the end of the song. “All right, Puck, you’re up. What do you have for us?”

“Green Day,” Puck answers, standing up and grabbing his guitar. He brought the Fender for this one, since he knew he wouldn’t have to leave it at school after glee club. “But no, not ‘Good Riddance’.” He smirks. “This is from _American Idiot_ , ‘Are We the Waiting’.”

It’s not really a graduation song at all, but Schue said ‘end of the year’, too, and it does sort of work as a song for the end of _Puck’s_ year, at least. 

_This dirty town was burning down in my dreams  
Lost and found city bound in my dreams_

Even the chorus, because the whole year has more or less been about waiting for different things. 

_Forget me nots and second thoughts live in isolation  
Heads or tails and fairytales in my mind  
Are we we are, are we we are the waiting unknown  
The rage and love, the story of my life  
The Jesus of suburbia is a lie _

_And screaming  
Are we we are, are we we are the waiting_

When he finishes, he sits down before Schue can say anything, and when Puck looks at Schue, he’s got that same bewildered expression he had on Monday. They definitely did not pick the songs Schue expected them to pick. “Wow, another good pick, another different interpretation, Puck,” Schue says. “So. What are you going to sing at graduation?”

“Not Vitamin C,” Finn says, quickly.

Schue looks disappointed briefly, then nods. “Okay.”

“Mr. Schue?” Quinn says, raising her hand. “What if we don’t do _any_ of those songs?”

“What do you mean, Quinn?” Schue asks, looking intrigued. 

“What if we reprised one of the first songs we did this year, instead?” Quinn suggests. “I think it would be nice if we did ‘Seasons of Love’ again.”

Schue purses his lips, and Tina nods. “That would be great for graduation!”

Kurt nods. “And they do probably expect the show choir to do something from a musical.”

“Or they expect us _not_ do something from a musical because that would be what’s expected, so actually doing something from a musical would almost be ironic,” Artie says.

Rachel looks at him and shakes her head. “Artie. There is nothing ironic about show choir!”

“Rach,” Finn says. “There is _everything_ ironic about show choir.”

Kurt starts giggling and when he looks over at Tina, she starts giggling too. Schue looks like he’s considering laughing also, and Puck has the vague feeling that some of them are missing something. 

“I think Finn’s right,” Kurt finally says. “Show choir is completely ironic.”

“So… ‘Seasons of Love’?” Schue says. There’s a lot of nodding and no one objects, so Schue smiles at all of them. “That’s it then! See you this afternoon for our last round of auditions.”

With that, Schue heads out of the room, probably eager to get a few more minutes of his own lunch, and Puck turns to Kurt and Finn. “Nap now?”

“Food and a nap,” Kurt agrees. 

“So tired,” Finn says. 

“Can’t imagine why,” Puck jokes as they walk outside. 

“Yeah, me either,” Finn replies, shrugging. 

“Nothing at all to do with being woken up at all hours?” Kurt asks. 

“Oh, is that why, do you think?” Finn grins at Kurt. “Guess anything’s possible.”

 

The only reason they even make it to dual enrollment is they have to take a final there, too, the next week; otherwise Puck would have been perfectly happy to nap right up until the time they had to be back for auditions, and he’s pretty sure Finn and Kurt feel the same way. As it is, Puck and Kurt get back a little before the final bell, and Puck pulls out his phone to text Finn. 

_Skip the last part of class dude_

Puck and Kurt head into the auditorium, and Finn meets them there within a few minutes. 

“You didn’t really need to go to class for anatomy lessons, did you?” Puck asks, grinning. 

“So many parts, dude. So confusing.” Finn throws himself into the seat next to Puck. 

“Some are more important than others, though,” Kurt says. 

“Well, feet are pretty important. Faces. Stomachs are good, because I like to eat. That’s what you mean, right?” Finn asks. 

“Of course, darling.” Kurt smirks at Finn, but before he can continue, the door to the auditorium opens and more people start to spill in. 

Schue’s not the very last person for once, but after a few minutes have passed, he still stands up to do his little speech about welcome to auditions or whatever. The first person to audition is Taylor, who sings Train’s ‘Save Me, San Francisco’ and does a pretty decent job with it. Puck nudges both Kurt and Finn. 

“Is his voice lower than it was when he did karaoke at Casey’s party?”

“I think maybe,” Finn says. “He still sounds good, though.”

“Yeah, he does,” Puck nods, and Kurt nods as well. Taylor finishes and exits the stage, and then one of the other PFLAG kids, one of the maybe–baby–dykes, comes on stage and announces that she’s going to sing Adele. 

“What, _again_?” Finn asks. “Why are all these girls setting fire to the rain?”

Puck shrugs. “Who the hell knows?”

“Let me guess,” Santana addresses the girl on stage. “You’re doing ‘Set Fire to the Rain’.”

The girl looks startled. “Yeah, how’d you guess?”

Santana rolls her eyes and shakes her head, gesturing for the girl to go ahead and sing. She’s not as good as Alicia was, but Puck didn’t hear the girl on Wednesday, since he was at work. 

“She better or worse than Wednesday?” Puck whispers.

“A bit better, I think,” Kurt responds quietly. 

“Alicia Brown did the best job of setting the rain on fire,” Finn declares. “I guess she would, though.”

Puck snorts and shakes his head, and when the girl finishes, another one of Taylor’s friends comes out and sings some Aerosmith decently well. 

There’s a couple of juniors from Puck and Kurt’s physics class next; one of them does a decent job with ‘Penny Lane’, and the other sings some overplayed pop song that Puck still hasn’t managed to catch the name of. 

Another five or six people audition after that, though none of them stand out as singers, and Puck doesn’t recognize any of them either. When the last person finishes, Schue thanks any of them hanging around for auditioning, and tells them the list will be posted on Tuesday morning. 

“Hey Schue!” Puck can’t resist saying. “Does that make it a… glist?”

Schue shakes his finger at Puck jokingly and shakes his head. “Yes, fine. The glist will be posted Tuesday morning. Thanks for your time.”

The auditioners leave and the thirteen of them clump up. “Decision time,” Tina announces. 

“Alicia Brown, Taylor, Roger, dancing Mandy, that Cheerio that could really sing,” Finn rattles off. “I like that Tucker kid and the girl with the guitar, too.”

“Brooklyn was good, too,” Kurt comments. “And the two kids from physics that went today.”

“Names?” Tina laughs. 

“‘Penny Lane’ and that crap pop song,” Puck answers her promptly, which makes everyone laugh. 

“That one mumbling Cheerio could really dance, too,” Mike says. “So she’d be a good addition.”

“I didn’t see the girl with the guitar, but the kid on Monday seemed to know what he was doing with the piano, so that’s a good sign,” Puck offers. 

A couple more people get added to the ‘glist’ and a few people get completely rejected. “If we are able to reject people, it will elevate the status of the club even more,” Rachel insists, and while she might be right, some of those people just can’t sing. 

“That’s fifteen people,” Tina says. “It’s a good start.”

Kurt looks at Schue closely. “You don’t ever give him girls’ songs.”

Schue blinks. “What?”

“Taylor. I know I sing girls’ songs. I know plenty of show choirs sing pop songs originally sung by the opposite gender. But you don’t do that to him.”

Tina nods fiercely. “Kurt’s right. Even though we know sometimes it happens, I don’t think it’s necessary. Boys’ songs.”

“Okay,” Schue nods slowly. “I wouldn’t have thought about it either way. But I will remember that.”

“And you should hold another round of auditions the first week or two of school for the incoming freshmen,” Finn says. “And not just you. Have your whole club in there. Let them make some decisions.”

Schue nods again. “Right. Maybe the second week, so the freshmen can adjust, and the club gets to know each other a little.”

“So we’re happy with these fifteen?” Tina asks. 

“Yeah,” Finn says nodding. “Ladies and gentlemen, your 2012–2013 New Directions!”


	4. Everything is Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's going to change.

Casey likes working. He doesn’t mind the hours or the coffee smell or any of the things people supposedly don’t like about working. He likes making drinks and talking to people and getting free coffee, and he _really_ likes getting a paycheck. Having his own money in his own bank account makes Casey feel a little bit safer, like if everything were to go to hell, he’d at least have that. He’d be able to take care of himself, for a little while, anyway.

Paul doesn’t let Casey pay for much of anything, even though Casey keeps trying. Paul’s even adamant that Casey is _not_ going to be the one paying to get that tooth fixed, even though Casey figured that was something he ought to be paying for, since it’s his own tooth. Casey wants to contribute, though, so he’s found ways to be sneaky about it, picking up groceries that he knows the Karofskys go through quickly, or buying milkshakes and sometimes even lunch for David. 

That kind of thing makes Casey feel good about himself, earning his own money, spending it how he wants to, spending it to do something for somebody else. It makes him feel like a man, not a kid, and he doesn’t have to hurt anybody or make anybody feel like less of a person just so he can feel that way. So, yeah, Casey likes working. 

Casey’s already had a lot of coffee when the phone rings at around five, and he answers it with, “St. Rita’s Starbucks, this is Casey!”

“Oh, hi, Casey, it’s Kurt.”

“Kurt! Hey! Are you guys back from New York? Did you win?”

“That’d be telling,” Kurt says, but something his voice makes Casey pretty sure the answers is yes, they did. “We just all need caffeine before the meeting, so—”

“I bet New York was so great! Did you go to the Statue of Liberty? Did you meet the President?” Casey’s not exactly sure that a show choir competition is something the President might attend, but it seems possible, anyway. 

“Well, no, but we did meet the White Ranger.”

“Oh. Well, that’s pretty good, too!” Casey says. “How much coffee do you need? Oh! Hang on just a second!” He sets the phone down on the counter. “Hey, Ms. Horatio? Puck’s back from New York and they’re on their way to the school board meeting thing, the meeting I’m going to, and can I maybe bring them a carafe of coffee, do you think? Because they’ve been flying and driving a _lot_ and they need coffee, so is that okay?” he asks, all in one breath.

Ms. Horatio laughs at him and shakes her head. “That’s fine, Casey.”

Casey snatches the phone back up. “She says it’s fine! How much coffee do you need? Oh! And how many cups?”

“A _lot_ of it. I suppose thirteen would be nice of us. One for Mr. Schue.” 

“Okay, I can do that! Do you want me to just bring it to the school board meeting? I’m going there anyway and it seems silly for you to come here if I have to go there. You’ll be there at six?”

“Right. We’re an hour out, hopefully, so we should be there right at six. Thanks, Casey. Bye.”

“Bye, Kurt,” Casey says, and hangs up the phone. He works for the almost–hour until it’s time to leave for the meeting, fills a carafe with coffee and grabs thirteen cups, fixes his own to-go drink, and then makes David’s last, so it’ll be the hottest and hopefully not get cold before he can hand it over when he sees David at the meeting. 

When Casey gets to the Lima City Schools building, David’s already there saving him a spot. “Coffee!” Casey announces, even though he brings David a coffee every day at the end of shift, and David’s probably not at all surprised by the coffee.

David smiles anyway and takes the cup of coffee. “What’s all the empty cups for?”

“Kurt called,” Casey says, sitting down on the sidewalk next to David and setting down the carafe and cups. “The glee club’s going to be here in time for the meeting and needed coffee, so I said I’d bring it here. So, I did! And here it is!” He makes a sweeping gesture at the carafe. 

“Oh, okay. Cool.” David nods a little. “Yeah, Tina got a bunch of parents and other people to come out early and save them all a place.” He gestures to the very front of the line. 

“Oh, that’s good. I was wondering.” Casey sips his coffee and closes his eyes, enjoying the sunshine after being inside either the school or the Starbucks all day. “Oh! And I think they won. Kurt wouldn’t say, but they sounded like winners.”

David chuckles. “How do you sound like a winner on the phone? Were they cheering in the background?”

Casey shrugs. “No, though I think I heard Finn when Kurt was telling me about the White Ranger.”

“The… White Ranger?”

“Yes. That’s who they met instead of the President.”

“Huh. Well, I guess it’s easier to meet the White Ranger?” David shrugs. 

“I don’t know. The White Ranger’s fictional, so that might actually be a bigger deal,” Casey says, as the bus comes rolling up. “Oh! I guess we’ll find out for sure!”

 

Dave’s pretty sure that the school board meeting qualifies as a let-down of sorts. Two months of work and controversy, and they just have a few questions and then vote? Sure, it’s great they won, but somehow Dave was expecting more fanfare.

Luckily, none of the media people want to talk to Casey this time, and when the general idea goes around that Pat’s is the destination, he walks to his truck while Casey goes to his car, and they both drive towards Pat’s. 

Pat’s is already starting to fill up, and Dave snags one of the last parking spots that’s in Pat’s lot. He and Casey sit down at a table with Brown and Alicia and Rick. 

“Oh! I should get a latté!” Casey says, and he’s already pretty much bouncing in his seat, though Dave’s also pretty sure that Casey doesn’t realize it. 

“Cherry,” Brown says, shaking his head. “What you do _not_ need is a latté. Valium, maybe. Or that tea my Ma keeps in the pantry, that calming stuff with the bear on it.”

Dave sighs, because what else should he do when he agrees with Brown? “Maybe not the Valium,” Dave says. “But I have to admit, you don’t need any more coffee.”

Casey pouts, wrinkling up his nose. “I _might_ need more coffee.”

“How about, uh.” Dave looks at the menu. “Slush? Milkshake?”

“Hmm. How about… _you_ get a latté, and I’ll have three sips of it?” Casey suggests. 

Dave starts to say that no, he doesn’t want any coffee, because he wants to fall asleep that night, but then his mind goes to _after_ he falls asleep, and he just shakes his head a little and realizes that he’s probably turned a little red. “Uh. I was going to get a vanilla milkshake, though.”

“What if, um.” Casey turns a little pink for some reason. “I’ll get a vanilla milkshake, and you can have some of it, and you get a latté, and I’ll have some of it, and then everybody’s happy?”

“You don’t want a vanilla milkshake any more than I want a latté,” Dave points out. “Possibly less, in fact, though that might be difficult.”

Casey starts to giggle, and says, “I _might_ like vanilla milkshake if I gave it a chance. You don’t know!”

“Jesus Christ,” Brown mutters, putting his head into his hand and shaking it.

“All we are saying, is give vanilla milkshake a chance?” Alicia asks. “I don’t think that’s going to catch on.”

“No, probably not,” Dave agrees with a short laugh. “Maybe we should just both get Pepsi, Case.”

“Oh, get your milkshake,” Casey says. “I’ll get a Pepsi and I’ll just drink it and make faces at you while I drink it, David. Then you’ll wish you’d said I should get a latté.”

Dave laughs again. “I’ll take my chances.”

“You’ll be sorry!” Casey warns. 

Dave _does_ get a vanilla milkshake, and Casey gets a Pepsi, and then after another twenty minutes or so, Beiste suddenly stands up with a cake for the glee club. It’s a huge cake, though, with plenty of slices for everyone, which get passed around. 

When Alicia tries to pass a plate to Casey, he waves it away. “No, I’m not hungry. Thanks!”

“Yeah, right,” Dave scoffs. “You? Not hungry for sugar?”

“I’m not!” Casey protests. “I ate at work.” He looks at the cake suspiciously when Alicia ignores him and plops a piece down in front of him anyway.

“Eat the cake, Case,” Dave says with a shake of his head and a rueful smile. 

“I’m really not hungry,” Casey mutters, poking at the frosting with his fork. “I ate already. Also, I had a Pepsi.”

“Even if you ate at work, Case, that was hours ago,” Dave argues. “It looks like it’s a good cake.” He takes a bite of his slice. 

Casey scoops up a forkful of frosting, raises one eyebrow at Dave, and without breaking eye contact, slowly licks the frosting off the fork. “There,” he says. “I had cake.”

“No.” Dave shakes his head. “You had frosting.”

Casey gets another forkful of frosting, this time with the tiniest bit of cake, and does the same thing, slowly eating the bite, one eyebrow raised. “Cake.”

Dave snorts. “Don’t suppose I could get you to repeat that?” Of course, repeating it might not be the best idea for _Dave_ , or maybe it would be a really good idea –Dave can’t settle on one answer. 

Casey deliberately scoops up another bite, this one actually containing a decent amount of _cake_ , and eats it, still not pulling his gaze from Dave’s. Casey’s tongue darts out to lick frosting off his upper lip, and Dave swallows a couple of times before he convinces himself that, really, looking away first doesn’t mean anything. It’s not a stupid elementary school staring contest; he just needs to blink, really, that’s all, and it’s a social event, he should look around a little. 

That’s what Dave keeps telling himself, anyway, because it sounds so much better than having to look away because your best friend is making cake–eating sexy somehow. 

 

Casey taps on Coach Beiste’s partially–open door. 

“Hey, Casey,” Coach Beiste says, looking up from her desk. “Come on in.”

Casey closes the door behind himself as he walks into the office, then sits in one of the chairs in front of Coach’s desk. “Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine,” Coach Beiste says in a way that’s meant to be reassuring. “I wanted to check in with you after last week. How are you feeling? Everything healed up nicely?” 

Casey nods. “Pretty much, except Dr. Jones won’t give me a cyanide capsule tooth, which is going to make it hard to be a spy.”

“I didn’t know that was an ambition of yours,” Coach Beiste says, looking a little startled. “Well, other than that. Do you feel safer with Johannson and Fordham gone?”

“Yes! I’m still checking around corners, but David says he’s sure the behavior will extinguish itself given enough time,” Casey says, and grins. “Sometimes he likes to practice his psych talk. He really hated that class!”

Coach Beiste grins briefly. “Yeah, that sounds like psych talk. I hated those classes in college, too.” She stops smiling, though, and looks more serious. “So, Casey, what are your plans for the summer?”

“Oh, well, um. I work at the Starbucks, so I’ll do that, I guess. We talked about maybe going to Cedar Point, since I’ve never been on a roller coaster before.” Casey squints a little, trying to think of anything else specific. “I guess that’s it, really.”

“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” Coach Beiste says with a smile, then looks at him thoughtfully. “You ever thought about swimming, Casey?”

“Um. I know _how_ to swim. Me and my mom— we, um, used to go to the Y during the summer,” Casey says. 

Coach Beiste nods. “You might like swimming. As a sport, I mean. It’s a nice way to spend part of the summer, you know. And then there’s the swim team in the winter here at school.”

Casey knows it’s rude to laugh, but he can’t help it. “I’m sorry. I, um. I’m really _bad_ at sports stuff. I don’t think a team would want me on it.”

“Have you tried?” Coach Beiste asks. 

Casey shakes his head. “There wasn’t any point in wasting the money on me.”

“Hmm, well.” Coach Beiste picks up a couple of pieces of paper. “Look through this and bring it back to me next week, maybe,” she instructs, passing the paper across her desk. Casey takes the paper and gives it a cursory look before folding it in half and putting it in his backpack.

“I will. I just don’t think I’m really team material, though,” Casey says. “Teams are for… other types of people.”

“Well, that’s the thing about swimming,” Coach Beiste says. “Same as track and field. It’s a bunch of people competing individually.” She shrugs a little. “Can’t hurt to give it a try.”

“Maybe,” Casey says. “I’ll asks David what he thinks. He knows more about sports stuff than I do.”

“Hmm, okay,” Coach Beiste says, and now she looks thoughtful again, nodding slowly. “About David. And your living situation.”

Casey tenses, because now all the weird stuff about swimming feels like it was some kind of a trap, though he’s not exactly sure why or what the point is. He raises his eyebrows in what he hopes is a non-committal expression. “Yes?”

“Can I be frank with you, Casey?”

Frank is probably better, though he isn’t really sure he wants to hear what she has to say, so he keeps the non-committal face and says, “I guess so.”

“I’m a little concerned about you staying at the Karofskys’ once David leaves for Georgia Tech.”

A panicky feeling is building in Casey’s chest and what he’d really like is to leave this office right now, or better yet, five minutes ago. Maybe he should have stood up when she handed him that piece of paper, and said thank you and left. “I, um. I don’t think Paul minds if I stay. He didn’t say I couldn’t stay. If… if he said something to you, I didn’t know. Did he say something?”

“No, no,” Coach Beiste says, and again, she’s trying to be reassuring. “He hasn’t said anything. I’m talking about from a perspective of what’s good for you, Casey.”

“It’s very good there!” Casey says, louder than he means to. “They’re really good to me. It’s good, it’s really good.”

“I don’t necessarily mean right now, Casey, but David’s not going to be there soon.” She sighs a little. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this in this fashion, but I don’t know how you do tell someone. The thing is, Casey, Monty and I were talking about— if you were to live with us.”

“But I have a place to live,” Casey says, and he’s not entirely sure if he’d get in trouble if he just fled the office right now. “It’s very nice of you. Thank you very much. But I have a place. It’s good, everything is good.”

“Casey, when I called your emergency contact number last week, I got David’s cell phone. I know he’s your best friend, but generally, I prefer to reach an adult when I call an emergency contact number. I know everything is good for you right now, Casey, but how much of that is David, and how much is Paul?”

“David’s cell phone was my emergency contact number?” Casey asks. “I didn’t— I mean, I guess maybe it makes sense, since David’s already here? And Paul’s office is kind of far away? Maybe?”

Coach Beiste looks at him kind of oddly, like she knows something about him or what he’s saying, and is just waiting for him to say it. “How many other kids at this school have an emergency contact who isn’t their legal guardian, do you think?”

“I don’t know that. How would I know that? Probably some of them. There’s probably some other ones who have that!”

“No, Casey, not really,” Coach Beiste says, shaking her head. “And of the few that do, none of them are fellow students. It seems to me like David’s taken on quite a bit, and I know you’re both real happy with the situation, but I’m not so sure it’s a good one, Casey.”

It’s true, part of what Coach says, especially the part about David taking on so much. “He says it’s okay, though,” Casey says, quietly. “He says he doesn’t do it because he has to. He says he wants to.”

“And I don’t doubt that at all, Casey. I’m pretty confident that he wants to, in fact.” Coach Beiste smiles slightly. “But I’m not sure it’s good for him or you, either one.”

“No, it’s fine. Everything’s fine for me, it’s good,” Casey insists. “David, he shouldn’t have to do so much, you’re right, but me, I’m fine, it’s good.”

Coach Beiste nods. “Well, let’s talk about that, then. About David. It is good he wants to do it, but I think he’s wrong about having to do it. He doesn’t think it is, but what I see right now, Casey, is that a lot of adults have let the two of you down. David’s doing things that an adult should have stepped up to do, and while I’m glad he doesn’t recognize that, I think you and I both know it’s true.”

Casey’s breathing too fast and concentrating too hard on not letting his eyes tear up to do anything but nod a few times, small nods that are probably too fast, and he knows he needs to calm down but all this sounds like is that something very bad is going to happen. Finally he says, “There _wasn’t_ anybody else.”

“No,” Coach Beiste agrees. “And that’s where we all failed you, both of you. And Casey, for that I apologize, and I guess I owe David an apology too. But I’m not going to sit by and fail you a second time when David heads to Tech this summer.”

“I like Paul. He’s nice, the house is nice, it’s a good place,” Casey says. “I’ll be okay with Paul, and… and I can help more. I have a job, I can do more, if you just, if you’ll tell him he should let me do more.”

Coach Beiste gives him an odd look. “It’s not about you doing more, Casey, it’s about the adults doing more. And Paul Karofsky is a fine man, but I haven’t heard anything to convince me he’s more than marginally involved with you or David either one. He’s raised a fine son, yes, but don’t you think David himself is aware that Paul is largely hands-off? David’s just as likely to worry about this sometime in July, down there at Tech, and that’s not exactly optimal, either.”

Casey either heard Coach wrong or she said it wrong, because what he heard, that’s not right. “July?” he asks, shaking his head to indicate that he’s pretty certain he didn’t hear her correctly. 

“Casey.” She has a weird look flash across her face for a moment. “Casey, the freshmen football players at Tech have to report ahead of the regular time for preseason. They have workouts and placement tests and advising and study skills courses and things like that.” She sighs. “I don’t have the exact date right in front of me, but David has to report to Tech before Evans at LSU or Hudson at Wisconsin, and those dates are mid and late July.”

He keeps shaking his head, because that’s not right. It can’t be right. David has to go early, sure, but not in _July_. A few weeks early, maybe a month, but not July. Coach is wrong, obviously. She’s confused. She’s just confused and saying it wrong. “No, no, that’s not right,” Casey says. 

Now Coach is frowning. “I’m afraid it is, Casey. Classes start at Tech the day before we start back, actually, and they run most of preseason practice before classes start. That’s near the end of July. Add on the special things for freshmen, and.” She shrugs a little. “It’s a big chunk of the summer.”

“No!” Casey says, and it’s not quite a shout, but it’s close. “That’s not right. David would have told me if… he didn’t tell me that, so, so… so it’s not right. That’s not right.” He stands up. “I should go. I think I need to go now.”

Coach sighs. “Maybe he thought you already knew?” She stands as well. “Just think about what we’ve talked about please, Casey.”

Casey wipes his hand across his eyes. Crying isn’t good and it’s not going to help, all it’s going to do is make Coach keep looking at him like there’s something terribly wrong going on. He wants to nod, or to say something to indicate yes, he’ll think about it, but instead he says, “This is all I have,” and then he does start to cry. 

“I know,” Coach Beiste mutters, but it’s not really clear if she’s talking to Casey or maybe to herself. “Thanks for talking to me. I’m sorry.” She scribbles out her signature on a pass and hands it to Casey wordlessly. 

Casey nods again, tears still dripping down his face. There’s not anything he can say to her. There’s really nothing to say. He leaves Coach’s office and hurries down the hall towards the bathroom, so he can calm down or at least cry without somebody seeing him. When he rounds the corner, though, he runs straight into somebody and goes sprawling backward onto the floor. 

“Whoa, Cherry, you okay there?” Miles’ voice asks. “Where’s the fire?” 

Casey looks up at Miles and blinks a few times. “Hi, Miles,” he says, and then bursts into tears.

“Oh shit, Cherry, you hurt?” Miles says, and he kneels next to Casey, staring at his face. “No, wait, you… okay, you’re coming with me,” Miles announces. “Come tell Miles what’s wrong.” He stands back up and offers Casey a hand.

Still sobbing, Casey takes Miles’ hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet. Miles leads the way through the school and then outside to the courtyard, where he sits down at a table and nudges Casey’s shoulder to get Casey to sit down, too. Even after Casey sits, Miles leaves his hand resting on Casey’s shoulder. 

“Cherry,” Miles starts to say, and then he pries the pass from Casey’s hand, smoothing it out and looking it over. He sighs really loudly. “You were talking to Coach.” Casey nods. “Yeah. I don’t know exactly what happened— well, that’s not completely true. She called me and Alicia and Rick all in. Seems like Shep being your emergency contact didn’t sit right with her. And now she’s been talking to you?” 

Casey nods again, and this time he manages to make some kind of noise that Miles seems understand means yes. 

“What’d she mention to you?” Miles shakes his head. “I don’t know, Casey. I tried not to tell her anything, but you know how Rick is. He’d probably tell her where the buried treasure is, if someone was fool enough to tell him. I’m guessing she didn’t like what they had to say, though, and now you really didn’t like what she had to say.”

Casey nods his head one more time and takes a deep, shaky breath. “I can’t have anything good,” he says, finally. “Everything good gets taken away.”

Miles nods. “Can see why you’d feel like that,” he agrees. “She wants you to leave the Karofsky place?”

Casey rubs his eyes and nods his head. “She says… she says David’s going away in _July_ , Miles. In July. That can’t be right.”

Miles looks funny for a couple of seconds. “For football, I’m guessing?” He waits for Casey to nod. “Well, I don’t know, Casey,” Miles says slowly. “Seems like Coach would know about football.”

“But he didn’t tell me that. He’d tell me that if it were true.”

Miles’ hand on Casey’s shoulder tightens a little, and then Miles moves his arm so it’s around both of Casey’s shoulder. “Well, when did he say he was leaving?”

Casey tenses under Miles’ arm. “Well. Well… he, um. Didn’t, I guess. Ever say. I just thought…” He sniffles and rubs his eyes again. “I thought… I don’t know, Miles. I don’t know what I’m supposed to think.” 

“Maybe you should ask him about it,” Miles suggests. “Or his dad. Just so you at least know if Coach was right about that or not.” He pauses. “But that’s not all she said to you, is it? I mean, you knew he was going to Tech sooner or later.”

Casey shakes his head slowly. “She doesn’t think it’s good. Me living there. She thinks it’s bad.”

“Bad?” Miles frowns. “Bad like how? I know they feed you!”

“Bad for me. Bad for David.” Casey lets himself relax slightly, leaning towards Miles. “She says… she says he does too much, that it’s too much, and, and it _is_ too much, isn’t it?” He looks up at Miles. “He does do too much.”

Miles sighs. “I don’t know about that. I don’t know everything, and I don’t know what too much is, either.” Miles pulls Casey closer to him. “But I guess you have to decide if you agree with Coach.”

“I don’t know if I agree,” Casey says softly. “But maybe. Maybe it’s true. I think maybe.” He leans his head against Miles’ chest, because it’s there and Miles is nice and this is the least horrible he’s felt since he first went into Coach’s office. “Everything always gets ruined.”

“You deserve better than this, Cherry,” Miles says quietly. 

“I don’t know, Miles,” Casey whispers. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well,” Miles says firmly. “I do.”

They sit there quietly for the rest of the class period, and eventually Miles brings his other arm up and around Casey, too, not letting Casey go. 

 

Dave wakes with a startle, and he lies still for a long time, trying to figure out why he’s awake. Then he realizes that not only is he awake, he’s alone in his bed, and that— that feels strange, stranger than he’d like to admit. He turns his head to look at the clock and frowns when he reads the number. It’s early morning, a good hour or two after Casey usually comes into his room, and as Dave lies on his back, staring at the ceiling in the dark, he wonders if this has anything to do with how Casey acted after school and all through the evening, really. A little more quiet than usual, even while they were watching _Battlestar Galactica_ , and when Dave asked what was wrong, Casey said, “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

Another minute passes, and then Dave can hear a soft whimper. If Dave had a dog, he’d think it was just a puppy’s dreams, and once he would have thought it was a trick of the wind, but he knows better, knows that it’s Casey, probably still asleep, and Dave sits up, swinging his legs off the side of his bed. 

He gets to the doorway, and stops, half in the hall and half in his own room. If Casey didn’t come to his room, maybe Casey doesn’t want him to come into Casey’s room. He frowns and chews on the inside of his cheek, then quietly crosses the hall, pausing in Casey’s doorway. 

At first Dave doesn’t even see Casey, which makes him first confused and then alarmed, and then he can make out the tiny shape of Casey curled into a ball in the upper quadrant farthest from the door. Casey’s still making soft, sad noises, and Dave swallows before crossing to Casey’s bed. Casey might not want him here, he doesn’t know, but if Casey’s not awake to tell him to go away, Dave’s going to be there. 

Dave sits on the edge of the bed, angling his body towards Casey, and as he reaches out to put a hand on Casey’s arm, he realizes that the soft noises are Casey quietly crying in his sleep. Dave sighs a little, wishing that he knew how to make Casey’s sleep more peaceful, and not just in the way that reassuring him can do. Dave slowly stretches out behind Casey and then puts his arm over him, breathing slowly as Casey gradually quiets. After another moment, Casey un-tenses somewhat, settling back against Dave until there’s very little space between the two of them. Dave sighs again as he closes his eyes, hoping that the rest of Casey’s night, at least, is peaceful. 

 

Casey has been over and over the same page of history notes five or six times, and he’s honestly still not sure what he’s just read. David’s math book and notes and calculator are spread out on the coffee table while he works through a problem set, trying to get ready for his dual enrollment math final. Casey sighs and looks over at David, watching him chew on the end of his mechanical pencil, his brow furrowed. If what Coach is saying is true, there isn’t much longer for Casey to sit on a sofa with David and watch him do anything. _If_ it’s true.

“David?” 

David takes the pencil out of his mouth and glances at Casey. “Hmm?”

“When do you go?” Casey asks, quietly, trying his best to keep any emotion out of his voice. He holds his face very still.

“Go?” David asks, looking almost confused.

“To Georgia Tech,” Casey says. “When?”

“Oh.” David exhales. “The freshman recruiting class reports on Wednesday, June 27,” he says, like he’s reading it from a poster or something. 

“Oh,” Casey says. “Oh, okay.”

“There’s a bunch of study skills stuff they make all the freshmen football players do,” David continues, “introduction to the Institute, and we start cardio and weight workouts as a group. Studying the playbook.” David’s almost rambling, like now that he’s started talking about it, he can’t figure out where to stop. 

There’s a whirring noise in Casey’s ears, and he just repeats, “Oh” again. 

“So, uh, yeah, it’s like a lot of the summer…” David finally trails off, and the mechanical pencil goes back into his mouth. 

“Oh,” Casey says, one more time. “Yes. A lot.” He looks back down at his notes and he can’t even remember what class they’re for, let alone what they’re about. 

“Going to be hot,” David says, and it falls flat into the silence. “And, uh.” He chews on the pencil again, and then looks back at his own notebook paper. 

“Yeah,” Casey says. “Hot.”

The two of them continue flipping through their notes, even though Casey’s more just turning pages than studying, until Casey just _can’t_ any more. At 9:00 he announces he’s going to bed, and David gives him a weird look but doesn’t say anything except, “Okay, good night.”

Going to bed early doesn’t actually mean Casey falls asleep any earlier, just that he’s alone in his bed for a few extra hours. He’s still awake when David comes upstairs. He can hear the shower running and doors opening and closing quietly, the sound of David moving around his bedroom, even the click of his lamp. Casey lies there in his bed for what feels like hours and hours, long past when the rest of the house is silent. When Casey’s clock says 12:57, he slips out of his bed and crosses the hall to David’s room.

David is asleep, like normal people usually are at 12:57, with his back to the door. Casey climbs under the covers, not touching David, and lies there on his side, staring at David’s back and not sleeping. Casey moves closer, until his head is resting on David’s pillow, then he leans up and presses a kiss to the back of David’s neck, right over his vertebrae. David almost shrugs, then slowly rolls onto his back. “Mmmffhmm?”

Casey almost laughs at David’s sleepy noises, then he leans forward again, kissing the side of David’s neck, right under his jaw. 

David turns his head a little towards Casey, eyes still closed, and exhales slowly. “Case,” David mumbles. Casey kisses David’s throat, right under his chin, the stubble scratchy against Casey’s lips. 

David tilts his head down slightly, and Casey kisses him on his chin, then the corner of his mouth, and finally brushes his lips against David’s. There’s a subtle pressure as David kisses back, and when the kiss ends, David lets out a very content sigh. 

Casey nuzzles his head underneath David’s chin and throws one arm across his chest, holding him close. Either way, whether it’s because David’s going to college or because Coach Beiste is right that Casey shouldn’t live there anymore, this isn’t going to last forever. It’s not going to last for much longer at all, and he should hold on to David while he can.

 

Dave yawns as the alarm goes off, flinging his arm over to turn it off and then realizing that for the second morning in a row, Casey has draped himself over Dave. Dave nudges Casey’s shoulder slightly, just like he did the morning before, and Casey stretches and burrows his face into Dave’s shoulder briefly.

“Is it tomorrow already?” Casey asks. 

“Yeah?” Dave says, wrinkling his nose. “If Tuesday is tomorrow. Technically Wednesday is tomorrow, now, so it’s not tomorrow.”

“I demand a recount.”

“A good plan,” Dave agrees. After they get up, Casey heads for the shower, and Dave gets dressed and walks downstairs to fix breakfast. Paul’s already cooking, though, and Dave just grabs a plate, putting a single piece of bacon and a small portion of eggs on a plate for Casey, and then gets another, much fuller plate for himself. 

“Thanks, Dad.”

“No problem, David,” Paul answers, nodding. “There’s toast, too, if you want it.” 

Dave nods his understanding, and Paul heads out of the kitchen before Casey arrives. When Casey walks into the kitchen, his eyes widen and he looks surprised.

“That was very fast cooking!”

Dave laughs. “Dad was already cooking.”

“Oh! I thought you had cooking superpowers,” Casey says, sitting down. “I was wondering when they started and if there was, um, lightning strike or radiation or something first.”

“A radioactive cook,” Dave agrees. “He bit me, and left a butler, too.”

“You’re mixing your comics,” Casey says. “It’s too confusing. I think you have to be regular David instead.”

“Damn.” Dave sighs. “Oh, coffee?” He stands up and grabs the mugs, pouring some in each. 

“Copious,” Casey agrees. “Copious coffee.”

Dave brings the mugs back over and slides one towards Casey. “Milk and sugar?”

“Sugar is good,” Casey says. 

Dave grins ruefully and shakes his head. Every morning the same question, and every morning the same answer. “Eat something, Case.”

“I’m eating… coffee.”

Dave snorts. “Yeah, sure you are. Eat something on the food pyramid?”

“Their failure to put coffee on the food pyramid isn’t my fault, David,” Casey says. “I’d try to reason with them, but I’m not actually sure who’s responsible. It’s a bean, it belongs with the beans.” He sips his coffee and breaks off a tiny piece of bacon, which he nibbles. “Coffee is definitely a protein.”

“Yeah, pretty sure the pyramid doesn’t agree with you,” Dave says, shaking his head, then stands up to put his own empty plate away. 

“The food pyramid is so political,” Casey sighs. “I don’t think I need to be held to its standards.” He continues to pick at his slice of bacon until it’s mostly gone, ignoring the eggs entirely.

“Pretty sure the political part is about animal protein, not coffee,” Dave says wryly. He shakes his head at Casey’s plate but doesn’t say anything. “Ready?”

“Well, it’s PFLAG day at least,” Casey says, “so that’s good. Better than some other kinds of days we could have.”

“True,” Dave concedes. 

The morning is mostly uneventful for Dave, until the beginning of fourth period, when his teacher tells him to go talk to Coach instead of attending class. Dave frowns and nods, heading towards Coach Beiste’s office. 

Dave knocks on the doorframe and pokes his head in. “You wanted to see me, Coach?”

“Yeah, hey, David, come in,” Coach waves him inside the office, and Dave shuts the door behind himself. “I wanted to talk to you again. About Casey.”

Dave frowns and takes a seat. “Yeah?”

“I sat down with him on Friday,” Coach begins, and Dave mentally groans, because that explains a lot of things. He starts mentally reviewing Casey’s behavior since Friday, in fact, and it makes everything sort of fall into place. “…so I’m hoping maybe the three of you could come in? I know it probably would need to be next week.”

Shit. Dave has no clue what Coach just said. Three, though, that’s probably him and Casey and Paul, and yeah, that makes a weird kind of sense. Dave nods. “Of course, Coach.”

“I’m just worried about him staying busy, among other things,” Coach continues. “Did he mention the swimming thing?”

Dave shakes his head, because no, Casey hasn’t mentioned anything that Coach said to him. He didn’t mention talking to Coach at all. He nods and shakes his head a few more times, and then Coach gives him a pass and he walks slowly through the halls, trying to piece together what he knows and what he must’ve missed Coach saying. Casey had seemed more upset than usual after therapy the day before, but Dave hadn’t wanted to push. 

He’s definitely quieter than usual during PFLAG, and Dave knows it, but he can’t bring himself to pretend _that_ much. Casey doesn’t seem to notice that he’s tuned out and thinking, and then as the official meeting starts to end, Dave walks over to get some more food. 

“Try the bread stuff,” Hudson says, appearing next to Dave. “Trust me. It’s awesome.”

Dave looks at the bread that Hudson’s indicating, and nods once, picking up a slice. “Cool.”

“Everything ok with you, man?” Hudson asks. “You’re untalkier than usual. And that? Is saying something,” he adds, gesturing with his slice of the bread stuff. 

Dave cracks a grin at that. “Yeah, I dunno,” he admits. “Coach has been asking a few questions. She thinks it’s pretty weird that I’m listed as Casey’s emergency contact.”

Hudson makes an odd face. “And… you don’t think that’s kinda weird?”

“Well, maybe.” Dave sighs. “But now… I don’t know, man. Maybe she’s right. Casey needs to be busy, you know?”

“He’s not busy enough now?” Hudson looks over at Casey, who’s talking to Rick and Brown about the glee auditions later. 

“Well, I mean, he doesn’t do any kind of sport,” Dave shrugs. “Or anything like glee club. Just school and work, and. You leave the end of July, right?” He waits for Hudson’s nod. “I leave the end of June. So.”

“June? Shit, man, that’s soon,” Hudson says. “He taking it ok?”

Dave shakes his head slowly. “Not so much.”

“That sucks. Heavy stuff,” Hudson sighs. “How’s that gonna work, when you go?”

“Yeah, that’s part of what Coach has been trying to figure out, I guess?” Dave shrugs. “She wants him to do some swimming thing? I don’t know. He needs something to keep organized,” Dave says with a laugh. “You should see his bookshelf.”

“I don’t even have a bookshelf, dude,” Hudson says, shaking his head. “I just pile my shit up on my desk until it falls over. So he’s organized, huh? He was saying something about, I dunno. Some kind of paperwork PFLAG needs?”

“Yeah, I think for tax deductions?” Dave shrugs. “We didn’t get donations this year, but I guess it could happen, right? I just… Coach might be right, maybe it’s easier if everything’s more… gradual.”

“Gradual how?” Hudson asks. 

“I _think_ Coach was talking about him living with her?” Dave shakes his head. “I missed a little bit of it. Didn’t realize she’d talked to Casey. He didn’t mention it.” He looks around briefly. “I don’t know, man. I love my dad, but. What if she’s right? It’d be better for him to move before I leave, right?”

Hudson frowns. “I dunno, man. Not assuming how you feel or anything, so just kick me if I’m wrong here, but if it were me? I’d hold on to every fucking minute. Fuck ‘easier’.” Hudson looks kind of fierce, almost defiant, even. 

Dave smiles kind of sadly. “Well, there’s easier for me, and better for him, and everything in between.”

“Yeah,” Hudson sighs. “Love is shit, man.”

Dave coughs a little and nods. There’s really no contradiction for that. 

Hudson helps himself to another piece of the bread, then suddenly says, “Hey, do you think Casey’d want to do the paperwork stuff for PFLAG? Kurt’s over there cornering poor Taylor about next year right now, I could tell him to talk to Casey, too.”

Dave laughs and looks over where Kurt does seem to have Taylor cornered. “Yeah, he’d love that. Something else to organize.”

 

Casey wakes up at 1:34 on Wednesday night, or technically, Thursday morning, and goes straight to David’s room, because there’s no point in pretending he’s not going to do that. He’s going to do _exactly_ that until he can’t anymore or David says he doesn’t want Casey to. He climbs into David’s bed, his lips against David’s before he’s barely even settled underneath the covers. 

David doesn’t respond at first, but slowly his lips start to move under Casey’s. Casey kisses him harder, letting the tip of his tongue dart out to touch David’s lip. David keeps kissing back, and then Casey feels the weight of David’s hand on the back of his head. Casey feels like he’s shivering, but he’s not cold, he’s very warm, and David is warm, and Casey slips his hand underneath David’s T-shirt, and the skin on his stomach is warm. Casey hears himself make a little noise, his lips still against David’s, and this, just this, is perfect.

At some point they must both drift off to sleep, because when Casey wakes up before the alarm, his forehead is resting against David’s, David’s hand is cradling Casey’s head, and Casey’s hand still underneath David’s shirt, resting on his stomach. Casey opens his eyes and watches David’s sleeping face, resisting the weird impulse to touch David’s eyelashes. 

The alarm goes off, and David’s arm flings to the other side, turning it off before his eyes crack open. “Hmm. Morning.”

“Hi,” Casey says, and he stretches a little, which reminds him that, yes, his hand is still on David’s stomach, underneath his shirt. He slowly moves his hand so it’s not under David’s shirt anymore, but his fingertips are still resting on David’s stomach. 

“Thursday?” David says, like he can’t quite keep track of the days, or he’s gotten confused. 

“Ostensibly,” Casey says. “Unless we lost a day.”

David frowns slightly. “Always possible,” he pronounces after a moment. 

“So, um. I’m going to, um.” Casey disentangles himself from David and sits up. “Shower.”

David nods. “Right. Yeah. I have to find something clean.”

“Stack of T-shirts. Desk,” Casey says. “Clean unless something terrible happened to them overnight.”

“Rogue mud monster,” David nods. “Got it.”

“Didn’t think to check it for a tag,” Casey says. “Too bad. Could have made a movie!” He stands up and stretches again. “But shower for real. See you downstairs.” 

They drive in separately, because David has dual enrollment and Casey has work. The school day is uneventful, apart from a fire drill during third period and Miles finding out that those cards that the Cheerios supposedly got handed out about him actually exist, which was sad for Miles but otherwise pretty funny, since Miles and Alicia got into a big fight about it at lunch.

After school, Casey goes and makes coffee for a few hours, and then he drives home. “Hello?” Casey calls out, quietly because Paul’s probably upstairs already. 

“Kitchen,” David’s voice responds just a moment later. “Want some strawberries?”

Casey walks into the kitchen, where David is sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of strawberries. “Hi,” Casey says. “Was the rest of your day nice?”

David shrugs. “Nice enough, I guess. You want a bowl?”

“I’ll just eat one of yours,” Casey says. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Sure. I can get more,” he adds with a grin. Casey plucks a strawberry out of David’s bowl and takes a small bite. 

“They never do taste as red as I think they will,” Casey sighs. 

David nods a little, looking distracted. “So, uh. Coach Beiste wants you and me and Dad to come meet with her, next week.”

Casey freezes, strawberry still in hand. He can feel himself starting to shake a little and tries to stop. “Why?” he asks. “Why’s she want that?”

“She said she’d talked to you.” David frowns, like now he’s doubting Coach Beiste’s veracity. “About next year. And after I leave. And something about swimming?”

“We talked about… things. Some things,” Casey says. “Swimming was a thing. That we talked about.”

“Right. Well, anyway.” David shrugs. “She wants all three of us in there. I guess because of…” He trails off. “The end of June isn’t far,” he says finally. 

“It’s still a while,” Casey argues, hating the way his voice sounds, all high–pitched and panicky. “It’s still a month, more than a month, it’s not that soon.”

David sighs and looks sad. “It’ll come sooner than we think it will,” he says after a minute, sighing heavily. “I— we just should just go and, I guess, listen to Coach.”

“I don’t _want_ to listen to her,” Casey insists, and he’s still holding that stupid strawberry, which is getting squished from how Casey’s hand is shaking. “Everything’s good, why does it have to get changed?”

“Everything’s going to change,” David says quietly, eating the last strawberry in his bowl. “Coach is just looking ahead.”

Casey decides that he’s not going to cry, and it’s good he makes the decision, because he was about to start and it would have just upset David. “When?” he asks, finally. “When do we talk to her?”

“Next week. Dad said Tuesday or Wednesday. I guess he’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Casey’s not sure what to do with the strawberry, which is functionally vaguely strawberry–shaped jam at this point, so he just keeps holding it. “Then I guess, um. I guess that’s what’ll happen, then. I, um. Smell. Like coffee. I’m going to.” He can’t put the words together to form the necessary sentence, so he just shrugs helplessly. David nods, staring down at his empty bowl.


End file.
